Putin Had A Little Gun

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 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

Fronts ~ a rhyme for Ukraine

There's many ways to win a war. With guns
You've got to have the bullets though for those
And someone's got to carry them. With tons
Of tanks. You got the diesel? Nothing goes
Unless there's diesel. Coming in a bit
Oh is it? See it come across the bridge
That isn't there. With soldiers that are fit
For fuck all when there's nothing in the fridge
You haven't got. We've got a lot of planes
Or will have when we've sorted out the fuel
And then we'll soon be splattering your brains
And blowing you from here to kingdom come
Oh will you now. "Don't shoot! I want my Mum"

There's many ways to win a war. With turds
Thrown over burning barricades. You got
A match? Too fucking right I have. With words
You fire them right and you can hit the spot
There's other things than bullets make you bleed
And other things than bombs to use to teach
That woman and the soldier and the seed -
In war there's also hearts and minds to reach
You take this seed, she said, and when you fall
In our dear country, from your lonely grave
Will come a bloom so beautiful and tall
That no-one will recall the life you gave
You're going to blow us all to kingdom come?
Oh are you now. "Don't shoot! I want my Mum"

There's many ways to win a war. Sun Tzu
Had lots to say on strategy, and still
He's widely read and what he says is true
But these days there are other ways to kill
And things that can be done by little men
So many ways civilians can play
That Sun Tzu didn't know about back then
How different a world it is today
So many fronts that it's a job to know
Which one to fight them on at any time
Flak jacket on, my friend, and off you go
And I'll stay here and write my little rhyme
“They're going to blow us all to kingdom come!”
Too right we are. "Don't shoot! I want my Mum"

© Gail Foster 26th February 2022