Once More

Once more unto the great jihad!
Let us make good, and kill the bad.
Our peril's great, our choices short:
We must bomb wogs, or else do nought.

Our aims are clear, our purpose pure;
The situation's not obscure,
Because the facts upon the ground
Are those we made last time around.

By clash of arms, in battle famed,
The honour of our tribe's proclaimed;
And we shall have a quiet laugh
In six weeks, at the Cenotaph.

Bucky Banger