In London, two weeks to the day,
Faux bombers seemed to say “bombs away!”
Or misguided futz,
`Tis not safe, either way, safe to say…
(four more after the fold)
Scooter and Blossum have lied.
In a blatant attempt to misguide.
Showing nary a wit,
Of remorse or true grit,
Is it jail for what they would elide?
Rice is meeting with Sharon and Abbas,
In the stead of her sniggering boss,
Attempting to spruce,
A faltering truce,
Putting spin on this utter chaos.
The age for enlistment is due,
To be raised from thirty-nine to forty-two.
Turns it up just a notch,
Now sit back and watch,
What the older yellow elephants do!
“Hey, Scooter, did ya get my email…
‘Bout that Wilson you wanted to nail?”
“Hey Karl, I sure did,
Ought to help in our bid,
To discredit without leaving a trail.”