Forward the Russian flag!
Was there a man portrayed,
Who still did not know,
It was all a political play?
If they were to question why,
Putin would scold them not to cry,
It is not their business to pry,
Into the cold Crimea,
Flew the six thousand.

Protestors to the north of them,
Tartars to the right of them,
Ukranians to the left of them,
Screaming and shouting.
Disguised as though they Ukrainen be,
Put on an act did they,
In the town squares,
In the countryside,
Came the six thousand.

Putin lied, his face so bare,
Said "We must take real care,
Else our fellow Russians there,
Will go over to the other side,
And our orders will not abide."
As all the world wonders.
Putting on airs that all is normal,
Though all around was a political squall,
Cossack and Russian,
Performed as though in a fairy tale,
Written by Tschaicovsky,
Then came even more,
Many more than the six thousand.

Protestors to the north of them,
Tartars to the left of them,
Ukranians to the right of them,
Threatened with sanctions.
They knew they had an easy gig,
Plus they were backed up by MIG's.
Pretending to protect their countrymen,
When really they don't give a fig,
Then arrived yet more of them,
Adding to the six thousand.

When will they go back home,
So that I can end this poem?
All the world wonders.
Your wives are going to fool around,
Your neighbor will feel her Venus Mound,
Go home, please, six thousand!