I wonder when it comes to Kim
Who he will he pick – a mere facsim?
Yong-un is the young 'un bred
To take his father's place as head:
It is a shocker, gruesome, grim:
Thank Goodness we are not like him.
For if we were, would we not see
The founding of a dynasty
In this, the blameless, blessed West,
Where a leader's an invited guest:
How horrid! They could never be
Connected, Clintons H. and C.
Nor could there, should shove come to push,
Be any link between each Bush –
The father-son relationship
Is not what Westerners think hip:
The Gandhis? Pah! And Pish! And Tush!
This isn't, sir, the Hindu Kush.
We frown on kings and queens: too grand
For us, who cannot understand
The North Koreans and their nation
Bent on constant replication:
We'd not be ruled, in this, our land,
By Miliband and Miliband.