Airstrip One

An Ode to Timothy Starr
On the Occasion of His Request
for Financial Assistance

That I, unmurdered in my bed,
And Mrs Gabb, unravished,
May count forever on the care
Of Mr Bush and Tony Blair,
Let us give praise to him whose eyes
Have seen the truth among the lies.
Timothy Starr, to thee I sing -
Whose name shall through all ages ring
For statements based on evidence,
And sometimes too on common sense.
Thou from the first wast quite assured
Mesopotamia's tyrant lord
Had - God knows how, though without right -
Weapons of vast and horrid might,
To use against us in attack,
Or hand around outside Iraq.
Yes, others doubted; others sneered;
Others maintain that none appeared.
But thou, O Timmy, thou cheered on
Those brave, brave men in Washington
To their true duty of defence
Regardless of intelligence.
So Iraq we liberated,
While Dick Cheney's partners waited,
And children there did we compel
To arms or sorrows bid farewell.
Some their monument seek in stone:
Be thine in Baghdad blood and bone.
If it decay, as must all flesh,
There will be minds to keep it fresh.
Therefore, indebted for the care
Lavished from thine office chair,
These verses on our happy state
To thee, O Tim, I dedicate.