A missile somewhere in Irak,
whose bite's as bad as is its bark,
is activated, fiery tail
computers track. Its progress trail
identified, another spark
ignites: the Patriot can't fail!
When all is over, and the mark
attained, it seems an easy lark.
Should some scud through, objective nail,
statistics help each future sale!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem