The Curmudgeon


Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Arab Burqa Crusade

The Arab needs a few directions
To find his way on Freedom's map.
If he could vote in some elections,
He would be such a jolly chap.

The beastly Burqa hides the features
Which weep beneath Muhammad's yoke;
These women are enslaved, poor creatures,
Like all too many brownish folk.

A new Crusade of brave and free men
Must drag them forth from moral night.
They'll thank us when at last they see, men,
That they were wrong and we are right.

We Democrats, upright yet humble,
Marching as one, shall never fall;
Yet if our valiant tread should stumble,
The terrorists will conquer all.

To be Embedded with the squaddies!
To show the war in brutal fact!
To ask about civilian bodies
Would show a dreadful want of tact.

A hood, or here and there a Fetter,
Can sometimes cause a bit of fuss,
Although we have done so much better
Than those we hood, had they been us.

Alas, our Goodness is resented
By those who are in Badness wrought;
And yet, when someone's detrimented,
'Tis said that we have fallen short.

The Holocaust must not be doubted,
And would be foolish to deny.
When we are crossed we gas about it,
Our actions to excuse thereby.

We Intervene with firm decision
And surgify the battlefield;
With awesome shock and dead precision,
Let freedom's sword slice human shield.

A thirst for Justice is our motive;
Free, fair elections are our game.
If natives now do not feel votive,
It's hardly we who are to blame.

This Killing is an ugly matter
Where agonies of horror lurk.
How fine to stay at home, and chatter,
While others do the dirty work.

Historic Lessons teach us truly
That human rights, so grimly won,
Must be bestowed on the unruly
From out the muzzle of a gun.

The Missile with its awful beauty
Gives healthy distance to our war,
Enabling us to do our duty
While watching safely from afar.

The use of Nukes is wrong and evil:
The sum of all rogue statesmen's hopes.
'Tis better far to spare upheaval
And use depleted isotopes.

What Oil? Oh, that! Well, by tarnation,
'Twas nought to us. And yet, methinks,
'Twould serve our cause, our God and nation
To keep it from the heathen Chinks.

In Prison-blocks occurred some hitting,
Some nasty bullying, and more.
Some bullies were locked up - omitting
The ones who sent them off to war.

The Question of the Palestinians
Is not undifficult, no doubt;
The more so, as it is our minions
Who've gone and kicked the beggars out.

Some Rebels 'gainst the old dictator
We firmly slapped down as they rose;
They may enjoy their freedom later,
When we can regulate the dose.

From out the Sands come buried treasures:
Shell casings turned to evil ends,
And bodies too, which fell to measures
Too harsh save when employed by friends.

Our Troops are cheaply fed and watered,
Cheaply equipped, and cheaply armed,
Cheaply protected, cheaply quartered,
And treated cheaply when they're harmed.

For things eternal, Universal,
Our brave boys fight in foreign parts;
And yet a fairly small reversal
Can lose so many minds and hearts.

Our Values British, firm and trendy,
By light of reason we bestow;
But keep them adequately bendy
To stand a million deaths or so.

We've bombed another Wedding party,
Which must be counted a defeat:
The press release will not be hearty;
The act was surely indiscreet.

With Xenophobes pray do not lump us;
They are not right, nor good, nor true.
Although this war's a nasty rumpus,
We have belief in what we do.

The birthright of each British fellow:
A golden thread that others lack.
A slightly duller streak of Yellow
Runs down our glorious leader's back.

For all our Zeal we take a beating.
They are not worthy; what a bore.
But even as we are retreating,
We try to help a little more.

Boggust Quabarle


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