Hey Condoleezza Rice!

An example of Aran street poetry, composed in late 2003 when it seemed the Americans had won the Iraq war; the translation is in the style of a ‘rap’, and imitates Bush’s Texan accent

“Mah mood’s good, y’all, on mah lips a smile is crackin’
Ah’m really in high spirits ’cos the bad guys we sent packin’!

Say, Powell, come here, ’n fetch some liquor in a flagon!
And Rumsfeld get a flautist (Ah ain’t stayin’ on the wagon!),

An’ hire a rebec-player – from the Gulf where they like singin’,
Where the desert A-rabs nod an’ to mah ev’ry word they’re clingin’

Bring some gin with y’all, and some whisky and some beer,
With good ole Condoleezza:  bring ’em all over here!

Cos Ah’m gonna have a drink and Ah’m gonna raise a holler,
Tell the A-rabs, up and dance, when Ah sing they all will foller!

If the folks in the States ask, “What is Dubya’s mission?”
Just tell ’em Ah am wagin’ war on global terrorism!

In east Pakistan Ah have built a firm foundation,
And Karzai is our man in the re-born Afghan nation.

Our girls mooch around just like cows in Kabul’s bustle,
They ruminate in pastures Ah’ve made safe with sword and muscle,

In spite of Mulla Omar, all our cows can roam round grazin’,
Cos the Taliban are gone for good – ain’t that just amazin’?

In the land between the rivers, too, they chew the cud and wander,
While the Sabre of the Arabs, in defeat, can only ponder.

Saddam rots in prison – my, jus’ listen to his bleatin’!
Once protector, in the past, of the Arabs from a beatin’.

We bought the guy with dollar bills, and not by wishful thinkin’,
His own folks sold him to us: they could hear the money chinkin’.

That’s what yah gonna get if you don’t shut up like yah oughta,
If yah try and get yah hands on the oil and the water!

Tell those A-rabs from me, Ah’m resolved, it’s mah decision,
That Ah’ll re-programme this world any way that Ah envision.

The curriculum they teach in school, Ah did not authorize it,
There’s terrorism in that stuff, those kids, they memorise it!

What Ah heard about the Colonel – tell him “much appreciated”,
He got the message even if a little bit belated!

Yeah, Ah guess Ah’m pretty happy with that wise-guy called Mu‘ammar,
First he roared like a camel, now all he can do is stammer!

And tell Bashar al-Asad “Son, be careful where you’re walkin’,
Just you watch your step and follow – let Mu‘ammar do the talkin’!”

And tell the sons of Qahtan  (if they want their fancy tickled),
That if Ah’m the ruttin’ stallion -- they’re the hairs on mah testicles!

And as for Bani ‘Adnan, say mah tail is their position,
They’re mah cousins, true disciples, who believe in mah world vision.

Don’t let those Persians force mah hand a visit to be payin’,
They’d better lend an ear ’n listen up to what Ah’m sayin!

Don’t let the North Koreans think their threats Ah have forgotten,
They stabbed me in the back, they did; they’re luckless, mis-begotten!

Don’t let ’em be deceived that Ah won’t come -- Ah’m just delayin’,
It’s sure as hell Ah will attack, and surer they’ll be payin’!

Mah name is George the Son of Bush, the nations know mah history,
Ah rule by stompin’ on their heads, mah method’s not a mystery!

But when all’s said, all this is done for one whose charm seduced me,
And for mah boss Arik Sharon, who to a slave’s reduced me.

Hey, Condoleezza! Israel’s love controls me! It’s possession!
Mah rope could snap – for all Ah care – if I got my obsession!

Ah swear Ah would divorce mah wife, repeat that oath whenever!
Whoever hates Israel will be my enemy forever!

Mah darling Israel’s part of me, a limb that can’t be sundered,
Ah helped her fight an evil foe , when ‘Adayy’s Daddy thundered.

To sum things up, Ah rule the roost, with power presidential!
Ah say! Ah do! And with mah shoe, Ah kick ass – that’s essential!