Sir Georgius de Bushhe was in fine fettle
'Pursue him till he's rightly dispossessed
'So let us march to godless Babylon,
With bold Antonius de Blaire, his squire,
He spake of wondrous matters for the morrow:
A plastic cornucopia that spills
And lo! the Arabs flocked to join his banner,
As he led all Christendom to battle.
'Doughty knights, and damsels, too,' quoth he,
'We'll smite that evil Shaykh of Araby,
Of wealth he has to insolent excess.'
On hearing this, the multitude did roar:
'The infidels will flee in Shock and Awe,
And kill till all iniquities be gone.'
And thus it was that in that time was born
The Götterdämmerung of Desert Storme.
De Bushhe laid waste that wicked land with fire.
'Make no mistake,' quoth he, 'you will be free.
You have the pledge of my artillery.'
Araby reborn, relieved of sorrow,
Prosperous and safe neath Zion's wing,
With all the fruits obedience would bring:
Casinos, clubs, and divers other thrills;
The gastronomic marvel of Big Macs,
And mortgages for all from Goldman Sachs.
Girded in the Occidental manner.
'Thank you! Thank you!' one and all declaimed.
'What little we have lost...for so much gained!'
© Alan Ireland