Modern Millie, passing fair
With her rainbow tinted hair
Cemented in a crest of spikes,
In tattered clothes, on motorbikes,
Comes calling to an odd refrain,
A wailing beat that's laced with pain
And speaks of ancient discontent,
Of chaos when the veil is rent.
More lady-fingers in the mix
of Economics/Politics,
For Man has lost the needed grace,
Appears with egg upon his face,
And wrings his hands, and wets his trews,
And weeps all through the Evening News,
But basks in dolce far niente.
So WELCOME, el Vice-Presidente! 

American businessmen
Consort and persuade
Around the globe
While Green Berets and CIA
Train and explain
In Central America and Libya

Is it any wonder
That Africans, Hispanics,
And Middle Easterners
Come to these parts
To teach their martial arts
In reprisal?

Everyone protests against
Foreign-led unrest
But nobody looks at our own.