Osama bin Laden, may his tribe decrease,
awoke one night from a deep dream of peace.
'By Allah,' he cried, 'I won't let it happen
I much prefer strife', and he took up his weapon.
Just then a great shadow loomed over his bed,
'I've come to collect you,' John Simpson said.
'Now don't make a fuss or I'll chop off your head.

'Ah ha,' said bin Laden, 'but I have a plan,
let's dress up in burkas and nip off to Iran.'
'I'm tempted', mused John, as he thought of the flight
but no one would know of his terrible plight.
'Do I nab him and tie him quite tightly with cord,
be a hero on Newsnight and claim the reward?'

But then, as he pondered, surrounded was he
by Taliban forces all grinning with glee.
'We've won,' they all cried and Osama jumped high
forgetting his jim-jams were hung up to dry.
At this terrible sight, John Simpson turned green
then woke up and realised
it had all been a dream.