It’s a British Petroleum afternoon!

Miles of containment booms nicely coiled,

all of the seabirds completely oiled,

thousands of sea turtles cooked or boiled,

beautiful beaches forever spoiled,

so drill, baby, drill!

It’s a British Petroleum afternoon.

Bankrupted shrimpers who sailed the blue,

ruined by square miles of petro-goo,

wait in a government handout queue,

wondering what in the hell they’ll do,

so drill, baby, drill!

It’s a British Petroleum afternoon.

Corporate criminals counting dough,

watching their bonuses grow and grow,

paying for lobbyists as they go,

thereby ensuring the oil will flow,

so drill, baby, drill!

It’s a British Petroleum afternoon.

Burning the water while dolphins fry,

smoke columns dot the pellucid sky,

everything living begins to die,

nothing to do now, I guess, but cry.

So drill, baby.

Drill.

LW