Assad and Putin, Putin and Assad
fit snugly together as stark staring with mad,
fit tightly together like Beelzebub and bad,
Assad and Putin, Putin and Assad.
Oh the tools of repression are many, old and new:
death squads, rape and torture are the bread
(families of the disappeared hesitate
before they turn on you);
then there's all the fun of chemicals
and barrel bombs to paint the districts red;
starvation is a staunch defender of the state;
and blasting hospitals and clinics (full of radicals
or would be if they grew) -
and that's to name just but a few, but a few.
Assad and Putin, Putin and Assad
fit snugly together like sharpened stakes and Vlad,
fit tightly together like cake-tin circles sad,
Assad and Putin, Putin and Assad.
OK. We need to redeploy our troops, Bashar.
I just hate untidiness.
OK, Vladdy-Baby;
you just hop over to nice John Kerry
and we'll have another sweet ceasefire
to stoke up all our mighty ire.
I'll put on my grandest dress.
Oh, we have the rebels 'tween the stones of a mill.
If we don't get 'em then Daesh sure will.
And nobody in the West dare care
when they hear the growl of a Russian bear.
(The striptease to finish.)
Assad and Putin, Putin and Assad
fit snugly together like bounder with cad,
buffoonery transparent, to those who see, buff-clad,
Assad and Putin, oh yeah! Putin and Assad.
