What is his hellish worldview,
this KGB parvenu?
Syria, he’s over there,
kills civilians from the air.
He would just love to swallow
his neighbors and then wallow
in that ancien
régime that met its end.

If I were you
and lived in Poland, oh so blue
would I be, going through some fits. . .
Putin’s glommy mitts.
He would like to make your way toast,
love to strike some far away coast. . .
blown to bits.
Putin’s mobster mitts.

Sending in his mercenary troopers
to Ukraine to fight in drunken stupors.
“Truth” jour[nal]*, duper.

Cannot fix this awful fella
’cause his shtik’s “unlawful fella”—
putz the pits.
Putin’s pawing mitts

Criticize him and you won’t be happy.
In a jail or gulag he will slap the
ones who rap P.

Russian bear ain’t into swapping;
from its lair the shells are popping—
direct hits.
Putin’s bloody mitts.


*Pravda