There was a nonsecluded place;
And guess who lived there by the grace
Of ISI—you know the face.
It was Osama’s hideaway, P-A-

Folks can’t see if they abet
A terrorist to run his net.
It took SEALs for the work that’s wet
Inside Osama’s pace to hide, K-I-

The team didn’t linger, no—just blow away then go. . .
Payback for the attacks that happened years ago
(Gat spat castanet-fast clacks. . .rat-ta-ta-tango).

And so they went to the spot and hovered high above,
Then dropped and popped off the dog’s top—ISI’s love
By a whizzing bullet laid low.
The army said, “How could we know
That he was here ten years or so?
What, an Osama hide retreat?!” S-T-

There is a dark occluded place,
Territory of desert wastes;
For terrorists they have a taste.
Aided Osama’s hiding plan, A-N.

His team didn’t finger, no, him, although they did know
About his high-priced shack, where he could run the show.

Now there’s just a blood spot sitting on the rug
Where the dog got a mop-top shot—no grave was dug. . .
He’s dropped to Davy Jones below;
His Navy foes crowed: “So long, O,
It’s straight to hell you now can go,
Down to Lucifer’s hideaway!” OK!