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Barbarians borders encircle.
The people return Mrs Merkle.
Everything’s blamed on the Russians.
(As once it was blamed on the Prussians.)
Great generals are now all dead;
Weak worriers stand in their stead.
The brave replaced by anti-heroes.
Bad emperors fiddle like Neros.
And art goes from awful to worse.
The Empire’s awash with free verse.
The media are all insane.
The language is beyond profane.
The Empire is seeded with spies.
The truth is no different to lies.
The legions are filled with the foe.
The cold winds of fate start to blow.
It’s clear that it’s lasted too long.
The feeble give way to the strong.
A virus comes out of nowhere;
The people are too sick to care.
Barbarians, unsportsmanlike,
Deliver a preemptive strike.

— D.N. O’Brien