While we're ripping off better poets, let me also share with you a couple of snippets from my ongoing diplomacy game (now down to three players thanks to a debilitating move to Trieste last turn). The press in this game has been a lot of fun, as after our earlier rap efforts, we turned to other sources for inspiration. These verses followed my Spring 1901 move to Trieste, and was mainly (and somewhat unwisely) directed at taunting the Austrian.
"You are weak, Father Thomas," the young Archduke stressed,
"And your armies are looking quite green;
And yet you incessantly hold in Trieste-
Just what, by such moves, do you mean?"
"In my youth," Father Thomas replied "My dear son
I feared it might injure my chances;
But now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,
It was either steal yours; or steal France's"
"You are weak," said the Duke "As I mentioned before,
And have grown uncommonly haughty;
And so you have marched your men up to my door-
Don't you think that's a little bit naughty?"
"In my youth," said the Pope, "I rented my corps
To nations in martial trouble;
The price of these legions, one centre,-or four-
Allow me to lend you a couple"
"You are weak, Father Ted, and I'd hardly suppose,
That your wit was as present as ever;
But your scheming is keeping my troops on their toes-
What made you so awfully clever?"
"In my youth," he replied "I studied the moon,
and I wrestled with bears in my prime.
Your neighbours and 'allies' all dance to my tune;
We'll take all your centres in time."
"You are weak," said the Duke, with a wry little smirk,
"If you hurt me you know that you'll rue it.
Yet you plot with the Tsar and you plot with the Turk-
Pray, how do you think that you'll do it?"
"I have answered three questions, and that is enough;"
Said the Pope "You're alone for the rest!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off! Or I'll take Budapest!"