Lying Mule-Hammed

(Goes on his knee)
Sir Israel, am I mad,
Or like the intoxicated clouds high,
To challenge your heroism?

What stirs my stare,
To consume you with such humiliating stare?

Has he said Missiles ?
Sir, to hell with Missiles:
For what league does a drop of tears
And heavy down pour of rain shares?

It's not us, Far be it!
It's lying mule-hammed
Or rather, Lai Mohammed.
Who cares? Whatever his name is!

Captain, we cannot afford your fury;
E'en let CBN collate her currency.
What can our literal quotient dare,
When Nobel Laureates dangle on your neck?

Our patience cannot equate your stillness,
Neither can our fiercest rage stir your weakness.

Consider the mule, a romper,
That sings balderdash,
After being fed to stupor,
By candy, sweets and liquor.
Under the spell of Brandy
Solution-ed with Alomo and Heineken.

Twas slip of tongue,
His heart was slower than his tongue.
Believe, twas a mistake, I pray,
(I rewrite what he intended to say:

"Let dearest Israel of all,
Do what seems good: Nnamdi is for all.
Missiles cannot whisper,
When Israel orders"

Baba Oko mi, omode ko le mo eko  je...
Eba mi pari re o ji e.
     18:10:24:22:04

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