My favorite stanza:
But come the end of Showtime, when everyone goes home
The pain returns to torture him, he suffers all alone
The tears they flow they burn and etch, the make-up hides a frown
So no one knows, as no one sees, the tears of a clown
This poem rated very well with all Canadians I am told. The French of course denied that they had anyone clean up after the beheadings out of fear that Bri would demand his great-great-grandfather's pension. The Hatfields of the United States wish to remind the kin of a real McCoy that they still have a few fighting words they'd like to share. Oh and Karl says 'he's far from sated'. Fun poem. Thanks for sharing.