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Aleppo, former Haran was the turf
Of kith and kin of Father Abraham,
To live in and his nameless God to serve,
Till God bade him to move to Canaan.
High on the hill, Aleppo's citadel,
A palace fortress famed in history,
With ramparts high invaders to repel,
Fort that saw battle, loss, and victory.
Our father Abraham there milked his sheep,-
The patriarchal cradle of Haran,
There he would plough and till and harvest reap
'Ere by God's will he moved to Canaan.
Paddam-Aram Haran holds the well
Where the astute Rebecca water drew,
The biblical well documented site,
And brother Laban,- cheating, sheared an ewe.
This land saw kingdoms and empires rise.
Saw proud magnificence and sad decline.
Saw conquest, victory, and then demise,
'Neath sluggish rule or sovereignty vulpine.
So many of them were that had their time,
To rule the land with reckless cruelty.
But Bashar al- Assad excels in crime,
All erstwhile rulers in depravity.
Massacres' blood-stains now drench Syrian sod
And carnage foul while high-tech bombers hit
The new born infant and the little kid
That cry for vengance to almighty God.
A strategy in Tartarus construed, -
Let hop-o'-my-thumbs and babes the target be
To be wiped out to drown in their own blood
In foulest and one demonic infamy.
And Abraham mourns his cherished progeny,
Disconsolate, to see his land devoid
Of means and help 'gainst murderous tyranny,
His cherished land of yore beat and destroyed.
The tears of Abraham wet Syria's sod,
They moisten solid rocks and every stone.
And move to mobilize God's lightning rod
As they rise up as gems before His throne.
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