Pharaoh

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.