Dear Leader

My young son we live in the mountains

Your wife and I are a family

She is my bride, and your mother

But together our world will prosper

Those far away have liable odds

Trends and baubles and bodies

But here we are spiders in the silk

Nothing above us but the sky as milk

These rhymes grow ever more complex

Dense and droit and clever and tense

Throughout our strain a pistol refrains

America, is our home again.