Welcome back, Il Duce,
With bald and bulbous head:
You make me feel so smoochy.
I’m sorry that you’re dead.
I like your strut. I’ve seen the telly.
Your calendars outscore Pirelli.
Welcome back, Benito,
Your arm looks firm, outstretched,
While Hitler, Hirohito
And Franco seem far-fetched:
Your uniform is so well-pressed.
Were you a fascist? Never guessed.
I see you’re hard and handsome,
Made trains arrive on cue –
If only Richard Branson
Could take a leaf from you!
You’ve such a smooth and soothing face,
I’ll overlook your views on race.
Your scalp-style’s back in fashion:
Most men are short of hair –
As you move in puppet-fashion
Above the Roman square.
You’d like it here. The whole world eats a
Bona fide Musso pizza.
These days our politicians
Seem quieter and skinnier:
Let’s have some brute ambition!
Let’s capture Abyssinia!
And then, Il Duce, as night falls,
Hang upside down upon our walls.
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