Had we but world enough and time,
This hold up, Hans Blix, were no crime.
We would sit down, and think which way
To search for weapons every day.
You by th' Iraqui Tigris side
Should missiles find; I by the tide
Of New York would complain. No more
I'd trust you after Daddy's war
Than you, if you so pleased to choose,
Would trust me to sway Sharon's Jews.
My phoney UN love I'll show,
Grows less than GM, and more slow.
Yet our New Century will praise
Our Project, seen through glazed eyes' gaze.
Two hundred plus admires our quest -
A thousand years for empire's best;*
An age at least to every scheme,
And the last age shall show our dream.
For, suckers, you've deserved this fate,
Nor would I scheme at lower rate.

   But at my back I always hear
Second term's chariot hurrying near;
Yet yonder all before me lie
Deserts of death 'neath Iraq's sky.
My sure touch no more will be found,
Nor, 'neath our marble dome, shall sound
Th' admiring throng; but they'll address
My long-preserved slow-wittedness;
As my fake honour turns to dross,
My rabid rule will turn to loss.
Defeat's a dark and public place,
Where none, I guess, will me embrace.

   Now therefore, while the victor's hue
Sits on my brow, like success due,
While voters' willing hearts transpire
At every poll with foolish fire,
So let me triumph while I may,
And now, like greedy birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour,
Than languish fearing their date's power.
Let's roll our corp'rate strength an' all
Its sweet'ners up into one ball,
And contracts plunder from this strife -
Before men count the costs in life.
Thus, though we'll not free Iraq's sun,
We still will grab our loot and run.

                    (Apologies to Andrew Marvel**)

*For Winston Churchill held it so,
And, after Hitler, he should know.

**And to Hilaire Belloc - for the footnote