Oh, Ursula sweet, with your EU throne,
A hundred euros, and your virtue’s blown,
We whisper soft nothings, as norms demand,
While Zelensky struts with his Kyiv brand.
Your billions pour out in a lover’s spree,
To a clown who snubs Trump’s decree,
A darling you are, with a wink and a sway,
But your ass on call leads Europe astray.
We’d court you with tact, per the diplomat’s code,
Yet your dance with Ukraine’s a treacherous load.