With war or without it Don said he's "OK."
I like my president flexible that way,
Not one of these guys who consults a dull panel,
Or cries "It's war!" while he works the back channel,
But coolly admits that each path has upsides,
Like choosing 'tween beers, college majors, or sides.
The Iranians' trouble? They're unwilling to flex,
To take things with humor and without touchy vex.
The Brits take their ship and their prez gets all huffy,
Ayatollahs bug-eyed and faces all puffy.
It's only a ship, they've got more whence it came;
Like the kid who lost homework, they sound pretty lame.
Their threats are a bore as are tit-for-tat plays,
Which take up more time and spoil the crews' days,
What'll the Brits do? Cut it up for cheap scrap?
Make it a fern bar or a house for dirt rap?
That's how wars start, see, when impatience reigns,
If Iran just chilled, they'd see reward for their pains.
That's what Don means: just let things take their course,
Delegate out stuff, bet on more than one horse.
Wars come and go, yeah, they're a pain in the butt,
But they have some charm if your regime's in a rut,
They pick up your numbers and make you look great,
Put opponents to rout and help you lose weight.
So Don is comfy watching how the wind blows,
Sweating Iran and watching how Wall Street rose,
The best June since Caesar, like a well-oiled machine,
An economy like no soul's ever seen,
So this business of war he takes not too serious,
Unlike Iran with their long-beards delirious.