Like most presidential wannabes, Hillary will need a campaign song. JFK had “High Hopes, “ FDR, “Happy Days Are Here Again,” But, sadly, her handlers have their hands full deflecting, avoiding and denying, so they might not have time for composing. Following John Kennedy’s edict to “ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country,” I have stepped in.

Here’s the thing, Hillary. I’m kind of tone-deaf, so I borrowed the melody from Paul Anka’s iconic “My Way,” one of Frank Sinatra’s biggest hits. But the lyrics? I wrote these just for you, Hillary…

Hillary’s Way

Hello, it’s Hil-la-ry
I’m back again, I want to serve you
You might be sick of me
But Bill said “run!” and I deserve to
To move back to DC
That’s all I want, to be your POTUS
Forget darned Benghazi!
I’ll tell it my way…

What difference does it make?
Those dudes are dead, why do they blame me?
It was just a video
Yet they continue to defame me
I lost a few emails
Thirty-three thou, or was it fifty…
I like to email Bill, my handsome hub – he thinks it’s nifty
To do it my way…

Yes there were times that I was blamed
For scandals we know I was framed
From Whitewater to Travelgate
Deny them all in triplicate
I bob and weave, and I deflect
There’s no one better to elect
And through the smears and all the lies
I spin it my way

I kissed Arafat’s wife
I didn’t know, she was in disguise
She wore a nice chador, I was confused,
Thought we were allies
I just want to step in, want to protect
our precious nation
And add a few more mil to the
Hill and Bill Clinton “Foundation”
And get rich my way…

The servers all have been wiped clean
Blame it on Huma Abedin
My senior aide betrayed me too
I’m quite surprised she’s not a Jew
But wait – I need the Jewish vote
I studied at the yeshivoth
I’m Jewish too, I’m sure I am
I’ll daven my way…

I’m named for Edmund Hillary
Although some doubt it, how that could be?
He climbed Everest after I was born
Who’s keeping track?
I could have sworn!
But I was born five years before
I’ll tell it my way…

When Bill and I moved from DC
We took some flatware and TVs
Some plates and cups, a few armoires
We didn’t know they weren’t ours
Yes there were chairs we took as well
Could not remove that darned doorbell
We needed stuff for Chappaqua
I’ll pack up my way…

I’m going to run, I’m going to win
And much to everyone’s chagrin
I won’t fight fair, that’s not my style
I’m quite the crafty white Gentile
Lewinsky who? We’ve got Carville
And George Souros – he thinks I’m swell
Stephanopolis– see? I can spell
I spell it my way

I’m here to stay, I’ll never leave
There’s nothing that I can’t achieve
And through it all, with nerve and gall
And though my ethics might appall
I’ll just blame Sidney Blumenthal
And do it my way.

Mollie Fermaglich (The Lost Letters of Yoko Ono and Heather Mills; Waiting for Barack (a Play in One Act)) is a satirical essayist who has written for Glamour, New York Times, London Times, Mademoiselle, Village Voice, King Features Syndicate and several other magazines and newspapers.  She is the author of Mollie’s Rules for the Socially Inept, and two blogs, www.molliesrulesforyou.com and her political satire column for The Times of Israel.