High in the east, Ukraine embarks on a quest,
Where machines and men dance, a chess game of jest.
Over fields where snails bear shells of steel,
Each rabbit startup, a knight's force do they wield.
Each base a realm, Rickey, the fox, doth seize,
With cunning speed, and light on the breeze.
Until Death’s hound did strike, swift at sixty-five,
In the memory of the game, his spirit thrives.
In German heartland, a wolf masked beast did roam,
A market's cheer blackened, 'neath yuletide dome.
His hatred for the camel, smirked with disdain,
Beside festive goat and deer, innocents lay slain.
