Turks are seeking for a Prince/
But him being not at sight/
Marko’s mother, sheds some light,/
she won’t lie:
„ Look around, you must try. “/
And they found him in a bit,/
Not a single wants to hit,/
Their goal is reach a deal,/
How to make those folks look small,/
Each for self, and none for all./
Not naive is Turkmen’s stance,/
All they want is more than pence,/
On the matter law is firm,/
Only gold to be retained,/
Looking from a narrow mind,/
With recession at the sight./
Marko dances with his horse, oh boy,/
Appaloosa spins like toy,/
Being squeezed in Marko’s hands,/
Tickled, trickled by these steps,/
Appaloosa bursts aside, doesn’t neigh,/
He is high; it’s like forceps, not a fly./
When the Turk man talks to Prince,/
Marko’s face came to still, it’s sincere!/
They should talk on business plan,/
All of us been sheer and clear:/
“On top of what you’re getting paid/
Plus one hundred to evade!”/
“C’mon Turkmen, go away!”/
“More two hundred, and stay stray.”/
“Your mind must now be derailed!”/
“Darling Prince, grab more of gold.”/
“Dear people, please be bold,/
Why you think I can be sold?”/
“Every month you’ll get cash,/
For our business not to smash,/
Never had you such a pact,/
Doing nothing, nor react,/
Our bullying stays intact,/
And your mace is not in act.”/
Marko’s thinking, not so loud,/
If there’s something to be proud,/
He himself likes no such crowd./
“OK Turkmen, but before,/
If you want mine hand in your to land,/
Golden nuggets please present.”/
There’s a grim face and a smile,/
All three hundred they supplied,/
Heavy bag for one to drag,/
Not for Marko, Turk man chuckles,/
Almost nothing, not aware of duster knuckle./
But when Marko hits him firm,/
Not one, two will bite the dust,/
Only Marko would not trust,/
Grabs the bag filled with gold,/
Kicks the third one, makes him cold./
There they laid down on ravine,/
None of them is very keen, to be seen,/
Or to stand up, knowing not what to mean./
Jolly Marko bursts in laughter,/
“Don’t you try to bribe me after,/
Or before if ever mattered,/
Pack your things and off you go,/
Istanbul must now lay low!”/
Marko rides his fellow horse,/
Appaloosa, and his brother,/
As the songs are sung by other,/
And all gold is given rather.
Written especially for Museum of Corruption
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