Tsarist Biscuits, Long Ago
Borneo in a biscuit-tin
Was smuggled 'cross the border
Stashed in Tora Bora's caves
To O Bin Laden's order
Digestives were his usual fare
Against the day that western sin
Eventually would do him in
Torment of the southern slaves
All forced to pick the cotton
Beneath the sun's relentless glare
The cotton balls were rotten
Which of us, sequestered there
'Midst rotting shacks and unmarked graves
Would think we know how he behaves?
Ballot-rigging in the dry
Is always much too easy
Riffling through the aces high
Can make a punter queasy
I often wonder, by-the-by
I killed your hare, why it should die
Amid such verdicts breezy.
Contributors: | Roland, Ethetran, Dassn't Say, Beefy, loaf, Apsley, Kevin Andrew Murphy, Grayman, Irene Adler, fester. |
Poem finished: | 23rd October 2003 by Anon.. |