(As the the first Gulf war ended (before the smoke had

 even died down) a minister popped up on television

bleating about lucrative repair contracts)

 

 

Down in the gulf the war was finished

(A blink and it might have all been missed)

Saadam was sad and quite diminished

As out in the desert the victors kissed.

 

In Paradise the Ancient Valour

Looked forward with a grave delight

To pro-and-con it in Vallhalla

That coming friday`s `Viking Night`

 

(Stonewall Jackson -sword on hip -

Smirked a furtive smile to Lee,

While Saladin`s sardonic lip

Scorned the un-equal weaponry)

 

But the immediate demand

Was a proper reverence for the dead

As Odin bid each warrior stand,

Respectfully, and bare his head.

 

This done, the all suppressed their views

And sat in quiet conversation.

Till someone said, `turn on the news,

Switch it to the British station`

 

And- lo!-on the celestial tele,

In that icy manner -all his own,

Was cold-eyed, thin-lipped, flax-haired Lilley

Addressing the financiers moan.

 

`Of course!` his ministry had planned

(Feareful of foreseen destruction)

Talks (already!) were well in hand

On contracts for the reconstruction.

 

While he thus reassured the banks

Thick profits soon would ooze again,

On the road to Basra twisted tanks

Crushed inextricable, mangled men.

 

God! the slain were not yet buried,

Some of the wounded not quite dead,

In crawling masses flies were serried

Black on festering, putrid heads.

 

The Ancient Valour, shocked, disgusted,

Uttered one long,communal moan,

While (shamed) the British military mustered

To make their feelings swiftly known

 

And over the ministry, broken hearted,

Hurriedly crude (but appropriate - fit)

Alfred pissed and Nelson farted,

Wellington vomited...(Cromwell shit).