Ever asleep’s the firstborn,
The skies rain w/ ribbits,
The river’s a weepin’ red,
And loyalty hangs from gibbets.
Dolce et decorum est pro patria mori.
Alas, ‘mid this grim morn.
The pharaoh is dead,
For from a heart torn
He bled, bled, bled
By the acerbic steel
Of the Democratic knife
Domesticated to the will
Of his dear ol’ wife.
Dolce et decorum est pro patria mori.
Albeit she lives still,
Her heart too’s impaled:
Now a heroine adored
For a reluctant betrayal,
But swift’s the sword
When tumult’s to allay,
And tyranny can’t afford
To tarry another day.
Dolce et decorum est pro patria mori.