It happened at night and oh what fright,
Usama must have felt,
As he lay in his bed with a slug in his head,
the last hand he’d be dealt.
Oh how unreal to see that Seal,
his rifle locked and loaded,
What panicked thought it must have wrought,
just as his head exploded.
His exile done, no need to run, his videos on hold,
Because our guys achieved surprise and rendered him stone cold.
A vile man from an evil clan, will get to kill no more,
He’s fast asleep in the ocean deep, now passing into lore.
His life was grim but that was him, the devil in disguise,
We all rejoice with united voice, at his overdue demise.
With much exclaim we’d say his name, “what he’ll do next, who knows?”
But now we’re sure he’s more demure, in his enforced repose.
His followers chant, oh how they rant, “he’s a martyr” they all claim,
If that’s the case his rightful place, is the martyrs’ Hall of Shame.
He’s hit bottom with Hitler and Saddam, and Stalin and Pol Pot,
But if you please he’ll be at ease, since he fits right in that lot.
Barack supporters in all quarters, say in the polls he’s leaping,
‘Cause he’s the man who made the plan, that caught Bin Laden sleeping.
They’re real certain, come final curtain, his competitors he’ll trounce,
No doubt at all, come a year next fall, he’ll use the “Abbottabad bounce.”
A Hood – May 2011