Murder At MIA

At MIA, there on tarmac, murder struck;
The killers spoke with their eyes, sealed their lips,
They moved as one, for they had tips;
They were the hounds that chased a nervous buck.
Their victim lost his chance to fight with them;
They wore fangs, sharp and long; the victim, none.
Death sat on tarmac when the crime was done;
The hounds now sang their “glory be to him.”
Yes, “glory be to him” who sent the dogs
To tarmac where the victim’s blood had spilled,
And “glory be to him,” for he could drink
The victim’s blood to cure his “lupus” hogs,
Which vampirish diseases must be killed.
It was a terrible thing just to think.

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