A hymn on the death of a ¿national hero?; or, "i’m not Hitler, i’m different".

to be sung to the memorable t’tune of ‘immoral, insensible cod, only wise; in squid-ink execrable hid from our eyes’.

unvetted, undértheorised, Palin and that
Volkswagen Phaeton - served as Haider’s death-trap;
you’d think all that research would dredge up details:
corruption and hubris and failure of brakes.

the high way’s conventions of signage sexíst,
might end leading gullíble Haider amiss;
his [e]’rection, th’original arrow points up
to figure straight on, but why not left or right [when the sign is on the appropriate side of the carriageway]?

th’ironicar, línguistically, lies in wait.,
for when the hubristical driver tempts fate -
in annihilation it’s name fructifies,
rehashes the myth, and thwarts the whole R&D budget.

Phaeton’s joy-ride-reckless careening at speed,
drunk on his paternity, sun-char’[io]t recedes,
in error he burnèd the Ethiop black
returning velocitous offending command: timeout/image. that’s a bridge too far, David.