Poems with rhymes of trump

I am the Judge. When at Michael’s trump
The dead from their mouldering sepulchres jump,

Cries, 'What must I fork out to-night, my trump,
For the whole first-floor of the Magpie and Stump?'

An' I'll tell you she's a trump,
Never even seen her jump

those lumps as big as trump
were finally taken to the dump

It was very wet with a little lump.
Now I have to change my pants,
They smell like Donald Trump

Before my face he trumps my trump,
Sweeps off my honours in the lump,

“What Happened?” Her latest book, which she is out to stump?
The ‘Deplorable’ know! They voted for Mr. Trump.

Cries, 'What must I fork out to-night, my trump,
For the whole first-floor of the Magpie and Stump?'