At first he came with gifts
and money for the bank
he pointed out the rifts
amongst our folks, that Yank.
He promised me a palace
of purest amethyst
back home in Yankee Dallas
he shook his feeble fist.
His henchmen on our soil
MacDonald's in our malls
his aim was Baghdad oil
and watching how it falls,
this house of foreign cards
when all the wells are dry
when no one pays the guards
it is a Yankee lie.
At night, a common thief
in silence cuts your throat
and leaves no time for grief
that foul and mangy goat.
I am Saddam, the great
I help the weak
the common man, my mate
God loves the meek,
I hate you infidels
and strike with might
and chase you to your hells
into the night.
Eternal fire will
now choke each breath
I am the ruler still
who gives you death.
There will be no appeal
the dice are cast
and we can make a deal,
forget the past!
And George, my Yankee friend
let us make up......
and to the very end
drink from the cup
that's made of holy gold,
a sign of peace
it is as I have told,
you take my niece
and we shall have much wine,
to hell with laws!
My wives, there are just nine
they have no bras.
As you can see, dear George
we stand with you,
and as we slowly forge
(all this is true)
a genuine Fatherland
where you and me
will smoke the richest brand
of Hashish Tea.
Allah who is our God
is always fair
he smiles and gives the nod
that we shall share
the world in peace and love,
our souls are clean.
Saddam and George, our dove
shall now be seen.
Herbert Nehrlich
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/from-my-attic-xii/
