Uncle Sam was feeling swank:
At last he was a Super-Yank —
An 'S' upon his T-shirt proved
He had the right to make you move.

'Go!' he said to Saddam, 'Go!'
But Saddam was a bit too slow,
And soon the bruiser from Tikrit
Was rather resolutely smit.

His Garde Républicaine was not
The force Napoleon had got.
(A rumor has it that his tanks
Were just for show, and fired blanks.)

It thus took naught to overthrow
The bruiser's braggadocio,
Though Uncle Sam was puffed with pride —
Like Tony Blair, his blushing bride.

The consummation of this love
Brought paeans from the One above.
The lion and the jackal wed!
Not since Musso's time, it's said,

Were nuptials of such import seen,
To link the mighty with the mean.
But Saddam missed the whole shebang
While on the run with half his gang,

And on his capture, in a hole,
Was less a man than rat or mole.
He whose look turned men to ice
Then had his beard checked for lice.