Fallujah was a pesky place —
A thorn in Uncle Sam's embrace.
'By God, I'll take it out,' said he.
'I'll smash it, trash it...set it free.'

So in he went with guns and tanks
To flatten houses, shops and banks,
And on a blasted pile of rocks
In triumph set the ballot box.

Rotund Allawi was soon there
With promises from Bush and Blair:
Free funerals for those who fell
In what was only briefly hell.

(Too bad these towel-heads will miss
the fruits of democratic bliss —
the blocks of serviced flats for all
And naughty nightclubs to enthrall.)

The world community was pleased
To see Iraqis' anguish eased,
Declared Allawi was so wise
He'd surely win the Nobel Prize.

And as for Bush, he wowed the crowd
And made his Daddy mighty proud,
While Schoolboy Blair went scuttling home
To gulp some more testosterone.