The war on Iraq
The
war on Iraq
Is
a load of cack.
Forget
it Herr Blair
We
don’t want to go there.
If
I may beg your pardon
What
happened to Bin Laden?
Not
the ones trading with George senior
It’s
the other one I mean yeah?
Isn’t
he a Saudi?
But
of course, they’re our rough trade
Ah!
So we need another enemy
For
the game to be played?
With
his biological weapons
We
can always turn on Saddam
But
as the antiquity of microbes says,
If
I’m not mistaken,’ Adam ‘ad ‘em.’
Haven’t
we got some somewhere?
Exactly
where is Porton Down?
Oh! We’ll never use ours?
Then
close the place down.
Oh!
We can’t in case they do.
So
we will use them then?
‘Mutually
Assured Destruction is MAD
The
sword’s mightier than the pen.’
Some
of the people all of the time
And
all of the people now and again
But
George Dubya the saviour?
None
of the women and none of the men.
Get
your head out of his arse
There
are no cameras up there.
Give
peace a chance
And
be fair Herr Blair.
© Bill Healey Sept 2002
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