(Modaru Madrigal 2)
Midas touch on grave reverse:
Whatever he touches turns into toxic dust
Hurricane with an evil eye
He swings round the globe like a wrecking ball
Where once Peace prevailed
He opted for war
In place of Light
He fomented the densest Darkness
Contemptuous of Honour
Indifferent to Shame
Dignity knows not his home address
And Grace never seeks his foul alliance
Cruelty trumps Compassion:
Yank wailing mothers from their suckling babies
Put medical care beyond the helplessly sick
Provoke the land to a Battle between the Tribes
Some call him Mobmaster
With a cold corrosive heart
Some swear he is a plague
A boastful sore, a pestilential scourge
But his cheering Tribe
Shout his praise, their rampaging Warrior
“Utterly foul, we know he is,
But a faithful executor of our Party program”