Hair slicked back under his black hat
with petroleum and snake oil,
the Jingo Kid,
Pentagon Budget spurs jangling
on his Upper Class
swaggered on to the A. Lincoln's deck
disgracing our navy pilots' flight uniform,
making it no more than
an overstuffed caricature of a codpiece.
As he taunted the enemy
he and his NeoCon posse had created
so they could play cowboys and Indians
in their crusading range war of choice,
knowing he'd be safe in the A/C in D.C.