The outlook wasn't brilliant for Republicans that year.
The score stood all to nothing with the very worst to fear.
But that night, when Ohio turned red, and Florida did the same,
A stunned, shocked silence fell upon the patrons of the game.

A straggling few left the Javits Center in deep despair. The rest
Clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast.
They thought, if only the Rust Belt could stay blue at that,
They'd put up even money now with Clinton at the bat.

All polls, all media, all data said victory was sure;
They couldn't possibly be wrong – they'd never been before...
So that devoted multitude in unwavering faith sat,
For there seemed but little chance of Trump beating Clinton at the bat.

But then North Carolina, to the wonderment of all,
Turned red and sent a chill up every spine in the hall.
And when the dust had lifted, and the men saw what had occurred,
There was Utah in the rebels' camp! Unbelievable! Absurd!

Then from five thousand throats and more there rose a lusty yell.
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell.
It knocked upon the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Clinton, mighty Clinton, could not blunder at the bat...

There'd been ease in Clinton's manner as she'd led them through the race.
There'd been pride in Clinton's bearing and a smile on Clinton's face.
And when, responding to the cheers, she'd lightly raise her hand,
No stranger in the crowds could doubt 'twas Clinton who'd rule the land.

Ten thousand eyes were on the map that kept them from their beds.
Five thousand tongues howled in agony as each blue state turned red.
As each news anchor, one by one, began to lose his grip,
Defiance gleamed in her devotees' eyes; sneers of loathing curled their lips.

Soon the results from Iowa came hurtling through the air.
Liberals sat a-watching without a bit of worry there.
Before the confident Democrat, the votes came in with no dread.
"I've got this in the bag," said Clinton, before the state turned red.

From the center packed with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm waves on a stern and distant shore.
"Kill them! Kill the electors!" shouted someone in the stands
(And it's likely they would kill them, did the law not stay their hands).

With a smile of desperation, Podesta's visage shone.
He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the watch go on...
Ignoring that Pennsylvania, the most steadfastly blue,
Had just joined the enemy – right by Clinton, its votes flew.

"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and Jill Stein answered, "Fraud!"
(One scolding from a Federal judge, and that would come to naught.)
They felt their insides turn weak and cold; they felt their muscles strain,
But they knew that Clinton wouldn't let a state go by again.

The sneer is gone from every lip; all teeth are clenched in hate.
They cry and moan and shudder as they wait and wait and wait.
And now Wisconsin holds their fate – now, at last they'll know...
And now all hope is shattered by the force of Wisconsin's blow.

For the populace of this favored land, the sun is shining bright.
The band is playing for them, and all their hearts are light.
In the red states, men are laughing; in the Rust Belt, children shout.
But there is no joy in Eliteville – mighty Clinton has struck out.