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The outlook wasn't brilliant for Climate Change this day:
The score stood four to two, with but one debate more to play,
And then when Nader died at first, and Kerry did the same,
A pall-like silence fell upon the patrons of the game.

A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest
clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
They thought, "If only Al Gore could but get a whack at that—
We'd put up even money now, with Al Gore at the bat.

But Duke preceded Al Gore, as did also Jimmy Carter;
and the former was a hoodoo, while the latter was no smarter.
So upon that stricken multitude, grim melancholy sat;
for there seemed but little chance of Al Gore getting to the bat.

But Duke let drive a single, to the wonderment of all.
And Jimmy, much despised, tore the cover off the ball.
And when the dust had lifted, and men saw what had occurred,
there was Jimmy safe at second and Duke a-hugging third.

Then from five thousand throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It pounded on the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Al Gore, mighty Al Gore, was advancing to the bat.

There was ease in Al Gore's manner as he stepped into his place;
There was pride in Al Gore's bearing and a smile lit Al Gore's face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Al Gore at the bat.

Ten thousand Dems were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt;
Five thousand libs applauded when he wiped them on his shirt;
Then while Lord Monckton ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance flashed in Al Gore's eye, a sneer curled Al Gore's lip.

And now the ocean-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Al Gore stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the surly moonbat jobs and taxes unheeded sped—
"Earth in the Balance is my style," said Al Gore. "Strike one!" the voters said.

From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore;
"Kill him! Kill Exxon-Mobil!" shouted someone on the stand;
And it's likely they'd have killed him had not Al Gore raised his hand.

With a smile of An Inconvenient Truth Al Gore's visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
He signaled to Lord Monckton, and once more the solar flares flew;
But Al Gore still ignored them, and the voters said, "Strike two!"

"Fraud!" cried the maddened Floridians, and echo answered "Fraud!"
But one scornful look from Al Gore and the audience was awed.
They saw his face bloat stern and cold, they saw his stomach strain,
And they knew that Al Gore wouldn't let that Earth go by again.

The sneer is gone from Al Gore's lip, his teeth are clenched in hate,
He pounds with cruel violence his film upon the plate;
And now Lord Monckton holds the challenge, then he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Al Gore's blow.

Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright,
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light;
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout,
But there is no joy in Muddleville—mighty Al Gore has struck out.