I had a quick glance at the stats,

At these cold additions of shame;

The dead are piled high with the wounded,

And we all know who is to blame.

It doesn’t seem to worry him;

That victims were daughters and sons,

Whose parents will not see again

Their cherished, most beloved ones.

Because of one man’s vanity,

These young lives have gone up in smoke.

If he had a sense of humour,

This would be his most puerile joke.