"a statue of Lenin at Goff's on Lovers Lane"
the one we all must mourn
shrivels on the vine
the things for which we pine
yelp in the dark, forlorn
the flag we used to hail
asks us instread to Heil
as bright-eyed goons defile
& cynical bets prevail
the jockeying begins
for who will be top dog
the candidates have fins
& hurtle with ceaseless flog
