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Alan Miller's avatar

Verse 3 —

And where is that vow we so solemnly swore,

That we’d never again run a land from afar?

It’s consulting offshore, through a revolving door,

Drafting laws for a nation now managed by war.

And the drug boats at sea, always timely to find,

Justified every strike long approved in Trump's mind,

While the lights flickered out and the currency bled,

But the oil flowed on, so a strike-force was led.

Verse 4 —

Oh thus be it ever, when markets decide

That a tyrant’s misrule has grown awkwardly costly,

Not chosen by vote, not by people supplied,

Just useful till suddenly deemed unholy.

Then conquer we must, when our cause it is “right,”

And this be our motto, rehearsed every night:

That the star-spangled drill rig forever shall wave

O’er the leased and extracted, ruled afar by a knave.

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Alan Miller's avatar

Expanding a bit . . . to the whole song . . . please, all, feel free to improve upon this version . . . I guess there are length limits so splitting across two comments . .

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The Star-Spangled Oil Rig (O Say, Can You Drill?)

Verse 1 —

O say can you drill, by the drone’s early light,

What so proudly we seized at the briefing’s last gleaming,

Whose crude stripes and bright rigs through the perilous fight,

O’er the ports that we watched were so profitably streaming?

And the rocket’s red glare, the bombs bursting in air,

Gave proof through the night that the oil was still there.

O say does that banner of freedom still wave,

O’er a nation “liberated,” its people now "saved"?

Verse2 —

On the shore dimly seen through the sanctions and flame,

Where the raid was declared “precision” and “clean,”

Stood a ruler renamed an international shame,

Till he vanished by dawn into planes unforeseen.

Then a leader appeared, interim by decree,

Recognized by the markets before the TV,

And the flag that she raised with a trembling hand

Was approved in advance by a foreign command.

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