Political Argument

Your lance against the shoulder-blade

My Picador, how well you thrust!

And little blood you drew, but just

Enough to make me see the red.

So charging down the esplanade

Of every topic we discussed

With steaming breath I pawed the dust

And gored the Matador instead.

JzssicA NELSON NORTH

Caught on the horn the bloody cloak

Is spangled with his death and mine.

So perish all the simple folk

Entangled in the Party Line,

While hat on breast the guilty cause

Takes self-possessed the wild applause.