Oh, sweet Hipgnosis, abode of minstrels dear,
Blackstone hath proffer'd golden ale so clear.
For billion and half, 'twould recommend,
Should formal draught to their hands extend.
In yonder East, o'er span of two score years,
China shipwrights, casting off all fears,
Like abbey brew masters with vat and cask,
Cement their maritime might, no easy task.
Niger, with voice as stern as abbot's call,
Bids U.S. troops from their shores to fall.
Their counter-insurgency plan's now void,
And violent insurgents thus are overjoyed.
