(Note: I borrowed the meter and rhyme scheme from "Casey at the Bat," but I'm sure it's been used in a million poems besides that one.)
The outlook wasn't brilliant for Earl Warren's legacy,
Thurgood, Bill, and Harry hung on, but all quite drearily.
And then when Burger called it quits, and Lewis did the same,
'Twas clear the Gipper saw the Court as something he'd reclaim.
The Gip had made Bill Rehnquist Chief, and put Nino on the Court,
Doubtless Nino pined to be paired with his old cohort.
Bork's nomination went before the Committ' Judiciary,
And with those liberal Senators the clever judge did parry.
The liberals wailed and gnashed their teeth when they heard the Rehnquist choice,
But Bork's the name that made them cry in one despairing voice.
They thought, "If only we can keep old Robert off the bench,
We could sleep a little easy and our sphincters would unclench."
The liberals made much fun of one Judge Robert Heron Bork,
They said his beard would go quite well with horns and a pitchfork.
His role as Nixon's hatchet man was carefully inspected,
And every word he'd ever written thoroughly dissected.
His champions touted how few times the judge had been reversed;
The liberals said he misconstrued the Amendment numbered First.
And his jurisprudence on the Ninth they hoped he would rethink,
For Robert would not guess at text beneath that blot of ink.
In the end the liberals had their way and Bork lost his Senate vote,
And since that time the judgeship wars have gotten quite cut-throat.
In later years Judge Bork became a preachy, angry grouch,
But there is much joy for Milbarge: To Gomorrah I will slouch!