Kim Off It
Pudgy, pale, and on strong pills,
Invisible, now Kim Jong Il
Has gone at last to meet his Maker,
Or, failing that, an undertaker.
His outlook was throughout abysmal,
Charisma-free, expression dismal:
Koala-like, but much less cute,
And strapped inside a boiler-suit –
But give him this, he had a view
And held it firmly, through and through,
Viz. that the West might well be shown up
If it could only just be blown up.
Some people have the right idea,
And maybe he did, in Korea.
But there again, perhaps it’s wise
No fall-out follows his demise.
A leader may well be divine,
Though Kim Jong Il would never shine
If in a galaxy of stars.
We give him these few cheap hurrahs.
