Gone Nuclear

Espionage comes, I think, from the French.
I believe it means “swell” – like that dame, Judi Dench.
Lightly trips off the tongue then it just passes by –
unless used in the same sentence with CLASSIFIED.

Some documents found in my Florida castle
were brusquely removed (so I claim) – quite a hassle.
If only the Feds had displayed some civility
(a deference for which I have no capability).

These thugs all barged in (well, perhaps they were strollin’)
armed – not with guns – but with a list of things stolen
that I never took. Then again, if I did
there’s no way in Melania’s room they’d be hid.

I was up in Manhattan when this siege transpired;
a matter where pleading the Fifth was required
and I did so quite often, and also repeatedly.
(The New York A.G. has so badly mistreated me.)

A call to inform me was made by my son,
either Eric or Don Junior (not sure which one).
I complained DoJ skipped right past a subpoena
(not true). Now a rock and hard place I’m between a.

I claim I’d removed any vestige of secrecy
by virtue of some vague, capricious technique, y’see:
declaring their status declassified orally
allows me to skip what’s required statutorily.

Am I facing charges for selling nuke secrets?
At that affidavit I wish I could peek. It’s
increasingly shameful the mud that I’m flinging.
My ship’s going down – to the last hope I’m clinging.

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