Twas Freya’s Day, a sun-soaked summer’s day,
Dry and cooled by a southerly breeze.
The sort of day for which we all pray,
Cone Man, mighty
beer mug in hand, was at ease.
Far less at ease, the neighbours of the Bear Tribe,
Seeing tanks massed on their eastern borders.
The mystery of this menace vexed many a scribe,
Knowing only that this host followed Vlad’s orders.
Bewildered was the Stars and Stripes Tribe,
By the peculiar attitude of their leaders.
“We must defend the borders of that tribe”,
Their scribes informed their readers.
These leaders guarded not the southern border,
Abusing many in their own tribe as ‘deplorables’,
Tolerating lawlessness and disorder,
And denied the reality that inflation was deplorable.
True, the Bear Tribe was bullying the Crane Tribe,
True, aggressors would be encouraged if not opposed,
Yet, wondered many in the Stars and Stripes Tribe:
“Why do our leaders care about everybody but us?”
© Craig Turney
