Gaza, Iran & Beirut.. nighty night
No respite from the missiles flight
Vexing but still flexing their might
Poor poor me…the Israelite
Don’t confuse this ain’t about Jews
Diaspora poorer cos of this blight
Lots of bots & Zionist zealots plots
Poor poor me….the Israelite
Ignite the fight with clear foresight
Denied aid this trite white knight
Lied about genocide that’s alright
Poor poor me….the Israelite
Mad Mossad glad says it’s our bad
Spite.. despite their neighbours plight
Planned land grab it’s their birthright?
Poor poor me… the Israelite
A tool in the cruel rule of fossil fuel
Not a fool got their American mule
Know they’re best mates so tight
Poor poor me… the Israelite
No slight or insight.. news lite
Spank & shank the West Bank
Carve up then starve a delight
Poor poor me…the Israelite
No stagefright the future’s bright
Rage kill will keep up their pecker
To murder and be a home wrecker
Victims can’t alight from midnight
Narcissist terrorist is high as a kite
Hear old song by Desmond Dekker
Poor poor me…the Israelite
Whittled skittled Bazball skint
Belittled lost the glint of Clint
Have a dig make my day big hint
Whatever they say never skinflint
In every stint we will always sprint
Hope dope blueprint trope's mint
The jibber jabber about the Gabba
White knights or ghoulish frights
Stagefright day night under lights
Highlights or more foolish flights
In the ascendancy have that tendency
Heresy or do they deserve clemency
Jealously let them preserve their legacy
Lose again barricaded in the Embassy
Stokes blokes smokes with their high jinx
Ben’s mens sneaky kinks find the chinks
Bazball minx in sync with cheeky winks
Glasses clinks as fans sinks their drinks
Nearly boys ploys bring us back from the brink
What do you think ..will our envoys annoy shrink
Another pity ditty in a sweltering city.. sh**ty stink
Or blink ignore the noise....spurred on by the slurs
Purrs like the Psychedelic Furs..joys of Pretty in Pink?
The fiddler and the frog went to play before the king
But though the fiddler played, the frog refused to sing.
Nothing could entice it, not rewards or threats of pain.
In silence it just stood there, nearly drove the king insane.
The fiddler kept on playing, the frog sang not a word.
All those in attendance said that not a croak was heard.
Finally, in anger, something broke in the royal brain.
He yelled out to his fearful guards, “Lock them both in chains!”
The fiddler stopped his playing, and he gave the king a glance.
He said, “I will explain if you’ll but give me the chance.”
The king screamed, “He refused to sing when I deemed that he should!”
The fiddler said, “He’s just a frog. No one said he could.”
The fiddler and the frog left the castle that same day.
Late that night, beside the fire, the fiddler began to play.
The frog lay staring deeply into the campfire light.
Then quietly he said, “I’m sorry. It was just stagefright.”
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