Hamas, in zeal untame'd, dost provoke Israel's ire,
Sending skywards a rain of metalic fire.
As stout ale in folly spilt, so the peace is lost;
Israel, in retort, counts not the cost.
Ukraine's east, once bright as newly broached wine,
Now languisheth in travail, marked by devilish sign.
The tiller and the smith, scarce found there be,
Just like a tavern empty for the lack of mead.
In the House, a ruckus, as rapt as drunken brawl,
Scalise stands, 'gainst tumult, tall as tavern wall.
With sturdy hand he tames the unruly crowd,
As wine in moderation quiets tongues loud.
