Goad The Three Hundred: The Mischarge Of The Stryker Brigade Poem by Hubert Wilson

Half-wit, half-wit,
Half-wit roared,
All in the valley of Deceit
Goad the three hundred.
'Forward the Stryker Brigade!
Charge for the oil! ' Rummy and W said.
Into the valley of Deceit
Goad the three hundred.

'Forward the Stryker Brigade! '
Was there a man not dismay'd?
The soldiers knew
Someone had blunder'd;
Their's not allowed to make reply,
Their's not allowed to reason why,
Their's but to do and try not to die.
Into the valley of Deceit
Goad the three hundred.

Fools to right of them,
Fools to left of them,
Fools in front of them
Lobbied and blunder'd,
Storm'd at with spiel and yell,
Coldly they strode and dwell,
Into the cause of Halliburton,
From the mouths of Neocons
Goad the three hundred.

Flash'd all their faces bare,
Flash'd as they paled in the political air,
Paled the troopers there,
Charging an insurgency, while
All the world wonder'd why.
Plunged in the politcal smoke
Right thro' the morale broke;
Shiite and Sunni,
Reel'd not from W's 'bring 'em on' verbal stroke
Iraq shattered and sunder'd
Then Rummy ordered them back for more!
Yes, the three hundred.

Fools to right of them,
Fools to left of them,
Fools far behind them
Lobbied and blunder'd,
Storm'd at with spiel and yell,
While spouses and offspring fell,
They that had fought for oil so well
Came thro' the jaws of Deceit
Back for the mouths of Neocons,
All that was left to them,
Left to three hundred.

When can their deployment end?
O the wild W fool they endure!
All the world wondered why.
Honor the burden for them W's made,
Honor the Stryker Brigade,
Noble three hundred -
And the thousands more
In W's endless War!