“It’s a pretty good war”
Said old Wingnut McSnore
“And the fellow who runs it
Seems proud and cocksure.”
“But if I ran this war,”
Said old Wingnut McSnore
“I’d make a few changes
And give Eye-raq what for.”
The weapons and airplanes and that kind of stuff
They have out there now are not quite good enough.
You see things like these in just any old war.
They’re awfully limp-wristed. I want stuff with more gore!
A one-barreled gun is not that big a deal.
The guns in my war have five barrels for real!
They’ll flay off the skin of an Arab tout suite
And the guy right behind him will end up chopped meat.
The kid behind that will be holy as Swiss
And send out the hearse for that lovely young miss.
The pundits back home will smell blood and be drooling
“That Wingnut’s not kidding! He’s really not fooling!”
My Gore War, McSnore War, will make people talk.
My Gore War, McSnore War, will make people gawk
At the bloodiest victims that ever did walk,
Or stagger or crawl or wheel ’round in a chair,
And my tank will just roll like they’re not even there,
Squishing their guts out with style and with flair.
The boys back at home will all wish they were killing
With tanks with neat drink holders to stop any spilling!
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