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A political serenade


Gregor Markič
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An amatory and by no means derogatory (the state of fascist crapp-ism in my country exceeds imagination) serenade for the waning times of my fatherland's usurper rule. May he soon be taken to his Creator's bosom.
 
Thou stronghold of the alt-right provenance
thou sex bomb of the collaborationist troops
there isn't in the world a man manly enough
who could conquer thee.
 
Helga, why have I met you ever in my life?
Helga, gimme back my virginity!
Helga, there's not a match for you in the third Reich
Helga, thy beauty frightens me.
 
When you cock my Luger
the bolsheviks capitulate
you raise thy right hand:
Mit uns ist Gott, Heil Führer, Sieg!
 
Helga, for one passionate hour of bonking
Helga, to hold you passionately
Helga, I would eat a pound of your dung
Helga, I'd go to Stalingrad and die.
 
Thy pedigree assures
the triumph or our better white race,
so that our descendants
may see times of racial purity.
 
Helga, let me rip your pantyhose
Helga, let me concieve life under your heart,
Helga, for the fatherland and for our sacred nation,
Helga, you will give me a dozen of children.
Edited by Gregor Markič
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