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A Lovely Ramaden Poem

Twas the night before Ramadan
As Osama, the louse
Was plotting with Omar;
His soon-to-be spouse.

The Taliban were nestled,
All snug in their caves
And they dreamt of young virgins
Who would soon be their slaves.

Then out in the desert,
There arose such a clatter
They crept from their caves
To see what was the matter.

Not far in the distance
There came a strange sound.
Lo and behold;
They saw a mushroom-shaped cloud.

Before Osama evaporated
He knew it was true:
His ass had been kicked
By the Red, White, and Blue 

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