A version of this poem appeared back in February. Sorry if you've seen it before, but I was never really happy with the original.

My small contribution to saving the world from the McPale

But isn't McCain the son of killer Cain?
Can you really be sure that he's able?
Did whizzbanging kids in the Viet game
Leave him completely mentally stable?

He thinks it's a joke to go bombing folk
That wife-ducking, zest-crushing crumb McShame
Too much vodka, mixed up with fizzy coke
Stirring, slurring, surging? Blame old McSame

Ride into the sunset to boos and hoots
You wizened, pasty-faced cowboy McLame
Even gung-ho has-beens hang up their boots
Happens to them all; just look at John Wayne

I have deleted all the old posts on this blog. As each new poem or essay appears the preceding one will also disappear. I have done this because only the present poem is important.

Simon