Alive—he is no longer
alive! The rouge has left no trace
On his thick neck
where shone: a burse, rip, and a tear,
Hanged, while the
people laughed that held him dear
Bar, now but a few
years. He died, — with no grace,
And many an
Arab-robed subject stared apace,
To insult him who’s
Hypocrites made them fear,
And black gold must
win a road for his bier,
And induce the guards
that guard his burial place.
Ah, Saddam Hussein,
for that end time of all,
The world’s hatred
broke upon thee, and stopped by,
And quicken a more
fair thy funeral.
Though in the dark
they preceded thee slyly,
Thy tomb had the
handle of darkness for pall
For touch, the dark
halls under Shoal’s windy skies!
No: 3330 (4-24-2012)
A tribute to rouge
