Always knew Cheyney was slick
Slicker than slick is old Dead Eye Dick
This pseudo athlete, hunting for quail
Much like his policies, was destined to fail
He needed a gunner’s course of instruction
Before using his weapon of mass destruction
This weapon he used for his bird-brained attack
He found in his hometown, not in Iraq
Birds, have no fear, he’s not a straight shooter
He’s much like his buddy, first name of Scooter
When they retire, we birds will be joyous
No more Bushes or Cheyneys around to destroy us
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Awesome! Great puns! Maybe he and W can go hunting together? -chuck