Historical poem: A One hundred lines satire written in heroic couplets after the style and period of Dryden.

A greater city none can eas'ly find.
No diseases, poverty, or people bind.
Toronto is the best, crowed Mel, the best,
And you may rightly put that to the test.
But alas, in Scar'bro a plague had come
And Nurses saw it go from one to some.
This Nurse had seen one man just cough and die;
She called the Press in just one blink of eye.
One turned to two and three then four; so WHO
Added Toronto to their list of two;
China, Hong Kong from March, twenty-two.
(SARS:Severe Accute Respi'try Syndrome flu)

Another day, and deaths began to mount.
Not good enough; WHO did another count.
Toronto was now added to the advisory
Travel not to this fear city of mis'ry.
Mayor Mel raised a dreadful loud ire;(iree)
The day he read the WHO's advisory.
He hissed and foamed and yelled with rage.
Who's WHO? Are they some kind of sage?
He flexed the muscles of his thin body;
No one does this to Trawna--nobody!
Just where is Ernie, when I most need him?
We have to give his WHO a fatal trim.
We will send this WHO a delegation;
But who's in charge of WHO's regulation?
Ernie joined Mel, in penguin attire;
Yes, said he, we will put out the fire.
Eaves went to the treasury to hire;
Determind to save Toronto from mire.
Mel Lastman went to CNN to tell
This stupid WHO will have to go to hell.


After all, said Mel, I touched not the tree.
Some Adam did; so Abba sticks with me.
"None of these diseases I'll put on thee;
That is, if you will always obey me."
But Lastman, "looking befuddled" for fact;
Nonetheless said WHO must clean up its act.
That night came, Ernie tell million had found;
Of course, the media we will now pound.
No SARS nor WARS on this our fair city,
And we will get to the nitty gritty.

Morning dawned and the ads began.
The public's purse in millions red ran.
There is no SARS--it's all gone--done.
So, come to Toronto and have some fun.
Ads placed with the news in prime position.
"More deaths" said the news--"a bad condition."
"Not old with other comoplications; this man
Is only thirty-four," said the anchorman.
Mel's ad piggy-backed news; Eaves drank hot toddy;
Pull the ads--pull the ads-- please, somebody.
Ten million the sum to deliver,
But instead, there was serious dilemma.

The U.S. Press next morning said: "Liar,
The trouble up North seems to be higher.
Liar, Liar," chanted the Yankee Press,
Still angry at Canada's last redress.
Bushyale of skull and bones cultic repute,
Called on his Ministers there to compute.
With cowboy hat and boots, and bomb in hand,
Still marching through Saddam's hot sandy land.
Bushyale yelled "Liar, Liar, a-grinning,
He marched to the mike his arms a-swinging:
"Refused my war eh, Canada? Now you,
Yeah, you, will sweat until you say, phew, phew.
Close the borders on Pericles," said he;
"Like Pericles, Trawna is up a tree.
SARS, and did you listen? Mad Cow Disease--
Oh, pay-back time is always such a glee.
Come on, dance to the right, dance to the left;
Left right, left right; Canada's left, left left.
Yeah pay-back time is here, O, Canada.
Trawna sucks; but you still rule, Britania."

Bush called his Council on WHO's advis'ry,
Much more than WHO's travel advisory.
"SARS, Mad Cow, and now another, West Nile;
So many more are added to the pile.
It's all because you went not to my war;
Now, we'll just let those Canucks stay with SAR.
O, yeah,said Bushyale, there's so much to fear;
So many diseases are birthed up there.
O' Canada, your home and native land.
Yes Sirs, your land is your land-- not my land.
Canada, just y'all stay up there, y'hear,
And very gladly we will stay down here."

Shame. Caucasus mountains, Monmouth's story;
'Twas here for Egypt's idols lost their glory.
The Kingdom split; exile, war and gory.
Who'd have thought He would resent our More?
'Twas just a little fun, some compromise,
That ended in wars, famine, dashed promise.
Another trek it was through that same land;
Shattered mothers with withered breasts disband.
If only they had listened; when bards warned
Of other gods, the Fall--unbelief dawned.
"Brought death into the world, and all our woe"
When our first parents listened to the foe.
Disobedience, power, money, sex;
"Till one Greater Man restore us." And Rex?
One Brutus landed upon Brutish land.
Brutus fought and refused the serpen't hand.
In days of old when Caucasians were told:
"For noble Britons sprong from Trojans bold."
Through centuries of sabotage for truths;
To free our lands from mis'ry and false truce;
Britain, Amer'ca, Canada band,
"This was the Charter of the Peoples' Land."
Beware the art of Periclymenus;
And all the elements of ruinous dross.
No radio, nor t-v; ours was the media Lyre;
It was not the politician-liar.

But Mel the Mayor was not yet finished,
His Toronto shall never be tarnished.
He called for his messiah, Mick Jagger;
"O save us," said the Ashkenaz dagger.
"Yes, tourists: millions--gay and straight"
Shylock's eyes rolled: "O pass the money plate."
But Yahweh of old, let out His great roar:
"The soul of man's my breath--the only cure;
I urge, Let not the stones cry out to me."
"yes," Mel said, "Let the Stones cry out to thee."
Ishcar'ot, Ashkenaz, Machiavelli,
Pumping his hands; eating macaroni.

But there's no escape; the circle story,
Until at last we come to His glory.
July twenty-one: "Nurse Lin dead from SARS
And on the ancient Eden; five from WARS."
O' Canada, you have your SARS and WARS

(And Mel Lastman, his messiah--Mick Jagger!)

O.J. Graham
In memory of the Summer of SARS and WARS-- Ne Oblie (do not forget).
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