Baghdad is Broken
(With apologies to Eleanor Farjeon who wrote the lyrics to “Morning is Broken")

Baghdad is broken, like with the Mongols
Sacked as a token: What a man craves.
Praise for the moaning, praise for the wailing
Praise for the groaning, round the fresh graves

Drink from the sewers, swim in the toilets
Grim reaping hewers, feed on the pain
Bagdhad is Bedlam, journalists dying
No news from Head Ram, butting his brain

Dark the night's falling, no light till morning
Government stalling, sits on its ass
Conquered and plundered, hear the mad mourning
George Bush has thundered, passing his gas

His is the flaunting, of his crude power
His is the taunting, of his new foes
Sell some detergents, open some markets
Damn the insurgents, in their last throes

Praise the self-tooting, praise all the lying
Let's do some looting, of Babylon
Praise the new order, conflict and chaos
Unguarded border, just bring 'em on!

Pictures in batches, taken with soldiers
Pod-like he snatches, bodies asleep
Ranch recreation, hiding from mothers
His urination, on those who weep

Praise for the Pet Press, sycophants scribbling
Easy to impress, so compromised
Best keep an eye on, his true objectives
Oil, votes, and Zion; none advertised

Empty suit speeches, read from a screen crawl
Written by leeches, paid not to feel
Praise the inflation, praise the huge debt load
His defecation, on the New Deal

His but to revel, in the Inferno
His the tenth level, for him alone
Dense and obscene he mumbles his mantras
Broiled like a weenie, meat off the bone

Baghdad is busted, worse off than Saigon
No one is trusted, back in the States
Praise immigration, praise red-meat issues
Praise flagellation, of the inmates