No Harm Spilt

The closer I get to you

The more you make me see

Crimea is just as Russian

As a caviar tree

And you know, dear Vlad,

Of critics we’ve both a slew

But I would be so glad

If I could be like you

I’d ride bare chested on a horse

And have my critics killed

No pesky Constitution

Would challenge what I’ve willed

I imagine us together

Gazing at the sky

Ah, Vlad, when I’m with you

Time begins to fly.

Melania’s breasts are sagging

She barely makes a four

What does love require then?

Let the liberals roar!

You, dear Vlad, are a perfect ten.