Gather ye oil-fields while ye may,
   Your 'term,' is still a-flying:
And these same troops that smile to-day,
   Tomorrow will be dying.

'Old Glory's' latest Bush (the son),
   The nastier his doings
The sooner will his race be run,
   And all repulsed his wooings.

That age was best which was the first,
   When UN's writ ran stronger;
But being burst, the worse, and worst,
   Pre-empt times even 'wronger'.

Then be not coy, but use your 'term';
   And while you may, go plunder:
For even President, or worm
   Like you, shall come asunder.

                    (Apologies to Robert Herrick)