Plump can as soon swallow a camel as a pumpkin.
Skinny is as blind as a bat but sings like a robin.
Together they row across placid waters
Towards a volcano now beginning to burp.
Out on the straits, sits squat in the wakes,
iron-plated and gray, a three tier cake of bellicose pose,
a battleship as big as a factory for cannons and tanks,
looking for trouble to left and to right.
Her guns will not smoke today nor tomorrow,
not while the League's emissaries (in tails and pipe hats)
gesticulate pantomime as they do when particularly harried.
Peace is for them a marionette character in Halloween masquerade.
Miss Peace is flat chested and tall as a pole.
Her pallor is pale. Her eyes are hollow but rather seductive.
She does have some curves you could hold on to,
if only she let you. She dances alone to a waltz beloved by all,
The Blue Danube
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