Putin had a little gun
Some vodka and a sock
And planned to have a massive wank
But couldn't find his cock
It never had been very big
But now it was so small
He couldn't find the fucking thing
At all

Putin had a little gun
Nostalgia and psychosis
And rather, so was rumoured round
A profound halitosis
And everywhere he went he left
An atmosphere and smell
And a little pile of unused socks
As well

Putin had a little gun
Delusions and an army
And plans to overtake the world
That were quite frankly barmy
He'd always had his issues
And been proudly narcissistic
But now he couldn't come he went
Ballistic

Putin had a little gun
A lovely shiny table
A hidden room in which he liked 
To dress as Betty Grable
A wardrobe full of furry coats
And rather fetching hats
And an oubliette in which he kept
Dead cats

Putin had a little gun
It really was frustrating
'I only vant' he said, 'to spend
My evening masturbating
I've fantasies of papering
My Betty room with jizz
But I don't know where my tiny
Penis is'

Putin had a little gun
Some missiles and some tanks
And plans to rule the Western world
And crack off lots of wanks
The best laid plans of mice and men
Can oft go badly wrong
Especially when you can't find your 
Dong

Putin had a little gun
Some vodka and a sock
A nuclear intention
And a lot of novichok
Some thermobaric weapons
That were frighteningly hot
And a tiny flaccid penis that
Was not

Putin had a little gun
It often is the case 
That sexual frustration
Undermines the human race
Humiliate a little man
And dare to mock and scoff
And he'll soon find something else he can
Crack off

Putin had a little gun
'I vant to rule the vorld!'
He pouted in his mirror
With his top lip slightly curled
It used to work much better when
He dressed as Betty Grable
But yet again he found himself
Unable

© Gail Foster 28th February 2022