Here Comes The Fat Lady Poem by John Fenton Mcleish

It might be true I don't have much time left
And yet I still have more time left than you
For the execution manifest
Already has your name listed down too

Did you think you could get away with it
Betraying your people for a quick buck
Sell your nation out for a profit
I'd say you are just about out of luck

Now we are approaching critical mass
Countries squabble for meager resources
And if to Asia you want a pass
Then you will meet the greatest of forces

Charlie will murder conspirators first
And for blood you will never quench his thirst
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// this poem may contain copying errors