The pot called
The kettle
‘Black !'
The kettle rebuffed
‘Pot, cry not foul,
Nor must you bark,
While it is stark,
You are a sooty reflection
Of a night, pitch-dark! '
While the blood of children,
The fair sex, the feeble and the old
Is still fresh in their hand,
Perpetrators of genocide
Demand, the less democrats,
Cursed and shunned  
From a diplomatic mission,
Must step aside
By ...

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