Of plague poor Strabo lay dying
An end to his cheating and lying
But heavenly fire
Made his tent a pyre
Strabo’s plague was cured by frying.
On the sands swords put paid to Pompey
Making young Caesar quite grumpy
He took Cleo’s side
Tanned Ptolemey’s hide
And took her off for some rumpy-pumpy
Sulla marched into the forum
Established a personal Quorum
But in his hour
Gave up his power
Died in peace and was burnt with decorum
The Samanite screams reached Bellona
Where the senate met with their new owner
The message was clear
All men must fear
A republic restored by this doner
Marius was seven times consul
A general his villa was martial
Built to his stamp
Laid out like a camp
In proportion exceeding palatial
Cicero was an orator
A peacock, a poseur, a prater
But undid his coat
And laid bare his throat
When assassins caught up with him later



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