Up Yours, John McCain

Well, "Up Yours!" Mad Dog John McCain,
And what's that stench I smell?
Why could it be an albatross
That you wear like a bell:
A dead, decaying necklace that
Suits leper losers well?

I do hope that you keep it up
Attacking us who learned
In Southeast Asia lessons that
You've only ever spurned
An asinine amnesiac,
Your coming loss you've earned

That fetid, feathered bird you wear
So proudly on your chest
Sure ought to help you win two states
And that's about the best
That fools like you could hope to win
While losing all the rest

Just like a bomber pilot you
Just shit on those below
And never see the ground beneath
Where people you don't know
Look up and curse the vapor trail
From hot air that you blow

And do team up with Holy Joe
The Judas Lie-berman
Who trashes "his own party" for
The Faux News Murdoch clan
And Zionist Likudniks who
Promote the fascist plan

Each day we've lost two more GIs
Through years that number four
Now with your "surge" you've doubled that
With killed and maimed galore
Among Iraqis -- Afghans, too --
And still you cry for more!

You have no honor left to lose
You sold that long ago
For dreams of fighting 'Nam again
And just as badly, so
Your plans for poor Iraq amount
To nothing we don't know

You've nothing new to add of worth,
Just more of what we've had:
A litany of lies and death
And "leadership" so bad
That more of what you offer could
But make more widows sad

Please go away and save us all
The boredom of your screeds
We've seen and heard enough from George
And all his lousy deeds
We really do not care for you
And your pathetic needs

So "Up Yours!" Mad Dog John McCain,
And you can kiss my butt
Your stupid brain has slipped some gears
And left you in a rut
Espousing war that no one wants --
Except the senile nut