Warfare, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory -
Odours, like sweet corpses, sicken
Hearts, which good sense could not quicken.

Iraqi lives, when freedom's dead,
Are oft heaped on the conqu'rors head;
And so their thoughts, when Blair is gone,
Hate itself shall smoulder on.

                    (Apologies to Percy Bysshe Shelley)