So, we'll go no more invading
   So late into the night,
Still our consciences parading
   That proclaim our moral right.

For the sword outwears its sheath,
   And the pose wears out the chest,
Where our guff commands us breathe,
   And greed itself grasps rest.

Though the world find us degrading,
   As our interests we pursue,
Yet we'll go no more invading -
   Till your boardrooms tell us to.

                    (Apologies to George Gordon, Lord Byron)