Locked In Piracy

[yankeedoodle]

       LOCKED IN PIRACY
   a poem by Yankee Doodle

Closet...coffin...whatever,
From wherever they emerge,
Rest assured they will never,
lose their perverse urge.

Ambitiously entombed at their uni,
Un-vampirelike, they affect the cross,
Nevertheless, as for you and me,
They intend to effect our blood loss.

Theirs beloved  blue, ours shed red...mixed...
or not, they seem themselves born to the purple,
For them, it's all arranged, all fixed,
To sail through life, they just use their pull.

Refined to yachts, yet swashbucklers,
The jolly roger is their fantasy,
Not ship-boarders, but, rather, pluckers,
Asset grabbers from sea to sea.

The jolly roger...gentrified,
At the uni from which they hail,
Modern-day privateers, it can't be denied,
Still...glad they are to hear you wail.

Whereas once they might yell for ale,
Subtly summoning bubbly is what,
Now makes for the successful male,
Who has shed his tricorn hat.

Linus Yale padlocked the world,
And locked-in these lucky lads are,
At the top, the jolly roger unfurled,
Smiling down at war spread afar.

What's on their flag but a skull,
And some bones, let's not forget,
Their crossed-bones flag fluttering above the hull,
The Earth being their hull - what do you bet?

That's what they think, don't you know,
And, sure, it's public service they love,
Because the public must get serviced, so
They know who are their masters above.

C...that's how these gentlemen are graded,
I think that's what I've always been told,
A truth or myth, F-U, shut-up or get raided,
Hell...this sure is getting old.