Bush & Company

They heard the rhythmic rum tum tum,
The pounding of a distant drum,
The cadence of the beat beat beat
Of martial bands and marching feet;

And then came the insistent hum
Of whirring aircraft overhead,
While blaring rounds of weaponry
Would soon set the Iraquis free;

But where the flowers, the fervid cheers
And joyful tintinnabulum
On our victorious soldiers' ears?
Of all this there was none, instead

The portent of what was to come---
The petrol generated from
Refinement of petroleum.
It's oil, just oil, and nothing more;

But that's not what our leaders said---
Not oil this grievous strike was for,
This war they were resolved to sell,
Nor rubble and the waste of war;

The endless din, the earthly Hell,
The bones and bloodshed of the dead.