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January 10, 2004

Home on the Range

Oh, give me a range where the jihadis rage
Where kufir and the splodeydope’s play
Where seldom is heard a non Arabic word
And the skies are not cloudy all day

Home, home on the range
Where kufir and the splodeydope’s play
Where seldom is heard a non Arabic word
And the skies are not cloudy all day

Ol’ Saddam was pressed from out of his nest
It's not likely he'll ever return
In a sewer in Tikrit living in pigshit
His flittering headlice remain

Home, home on the range
Where kufir and the splodeydope play
Where seldom is heard a non Arabic word
And the skies are not cloudy all day

How often at night when the heavens are bright
I see the light of the incoming fires
Have I laid there amazed and asked as I gazed
If their boys had been taught how to aim

Home, home on the range
Where kufir and the splodeydope’s play
Where seldom is heard a non Arabic word
And the skies are not cloudy all day

January 10, 2004 in WarSongs | Permalink

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