From the West, a tale doth spring, 'bout a man in peril's ring,
In Iran, they hold him fast, his freedom's hour hath passed.
His name, they shan't declare. An empty mug of ale we share,
Pray to God, his safety won, and his journey under the sun.
Iran, with words so dire, doth threats of battle fire,
To Israel, a potent brew, of weapons, old and new.
Upon the saints, we call, may peace 'twixt nations befall,
Lest wine of warfare fills the cup, and all the world must sup.
In East's realm, a worrying scene, North Korean troops in Russian green.
China beholdeth this sight with dread, fear and mead in hearts are spread.
Pray we now to Heaven's gate, for calm in this bewildered state,
And let God's ale of peace be drawn, 'fore dawn unveils a fateful morn.
