The Tale of Desert Storme

Sir Georgius de Bushhe was in fine fettle
As he led all Christendom to battle.
‘Doughty knights, and damsels, too,’ quoth he,
‘We’ll smite that evil Shaykh of Araby,

‘Pursue him till he’s rightly dispossessed
Of wealth he has to insolent excess.’
On hearing this, the multitude did roar:
‘The infidels will flee in Shock and Awe,

‘So let us march to godless Babylon,
And kill till all iniquities be gone.’
And thus it was that in that time was born
The Götterdämmerung of Desert Storme.

With bold Antonius de Blaire, his squire,
De Bushhe laid waste that wicked land with fire.
‘Make no mistake,’ quoth he, ‘you will be free.
You have the pledge of my artillery.’

He spake of wondrous matters for the morrow:
Araby reborn, relieved of sorrow,
Prosperous and safe neath Zion’s wing,
With all the fruits obedience would bring:

A plastic cornucopia that spills
Casinos, clubs, and divers other thrills;
The gastronomic marvel of Big Macs,
And mortgages for all from Goldman Sachs.

And lo! the Arabs flocked to join his banner,
Girded in the Occidental manner.
‘Thank you! Thank you!’ one and all declaimed.
‘What little we have lost…for so much gained!’

First published in Music in the Air.