The Ballad of Jon Huntsman
With a dirt bike in his hand,
A maverick from the Beehive State,
He seemed to have a plan
For rescuing this nation
from perils small and large.
He threw his hat into the ring
To be the man in charge.
Yo-ohhhh — Huntsman, ride!
Yo-ohhhh — Huntsman, ride!
He played keyboards on Letterman,
He duly made the rounds,
His campaign had good optics,
He made all the right sounds.
But the voters didn’t trust him,
Or the campaign he was in:
He once worked in the White House
For the minister of sin.
Yo-ohhhh — Huntsman, ride!
Yo-ohhhh — Huntsman, ride!
He bet the ranch on Iowa, ‘Twas there he’d make his stand.
But Newt and Mitt and Ron Paul
Took victory from his hand.
With a bit of help from his PAC mule,
The Huntsman soldiered on
But his campaign had no traction
Past the ground it started on.
Yo-ohhhh — Huntsman, ride!
Yo-ohhhh — Huntsman, ride!
He spoke in fluent Mandarin
When English would suffice.
In a land of ruthless cutthroats
He made hay by playing nice.
But his message didn’t excite folks,
He was shackled to the meme
That he couldn’t light a fire
With a can of gasoline.
Yo-ohhhh — Huntsman, ride!
Yo-ohhhh — Huntsman, ride!
He never brought his A game
He never got higher than third
And in the dark New Hampshire night,
He vanished without a word.
And he only raised four million
In his bid to lead the land,
But you can’t be a contender
With chump change in your hand.
Yo-ohhhh — Huntsman, ride!
Yo-ohhhh — Huntsman, ride!
The Huntsman packed it in.
He’d scrapped and bit and clawed and snarled,
He’d tried not to give in.
But the writing written on the wall
Was big as you’ve ever seen:
“We’ll meet you in the bye and bye
Of twenty and sixteen.”
Yo-ohhhh — Huntsman, ride!
Yo-ohhhh — Huntsman, ride!
Image credits: Huntsman top: Pool. Huntsman middle: Joe Raedle/Getty Images. Huntsman bottom: AP/The Sun News, Charles Slate.
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