It was political melee
As George the Third sat all day next to Washington,
Brandishing his well-taxed gold
At Mr. President's plated cupronickel.
Long forgotten native rulers
Looked suspiciously on King Ferdinand's
Haughty silver profile,
Remembering the gold they kept their eyes on
(Quite closely)
That was whisked away to foreign treasuries.
The soldiers of Cameroon
Stamped proud of the front of Sterling Francs
Didn't notice the monarchy's fleur-de-lis
Sneaking up behind their minted silver shields.
Wooden nickels and time-scarred dines,
Finely-etched stone and modern-minted pieces
Were thrown this way an that
By careless heirs concerned only
With contemporary currency,
Never with the wars of history.
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