Whose oil this is I think I know,
His home is in Caracas, though,
Which lies in our own hemisphere;
Czar Nicolas will have to go.
Our spooks and spies have naught to fear--
Their mission is completely clear.
Heroic stories will be told
By talking heads who always cheer.
We shouldn't have to pay with gold
For oil that's countless aeons old
That's what a petro dollar's for--
(But hush!...that story can't be told.)
We've faced this problem oft before:
A socialist off our south shore.
We're off to fight another war,
We're off to fight a bloody war.