According to George (Poetry)

We seek 'em here, we seek 'em there,
we seeks them weapons everywhere
but there's no sign, no proof to show
they were for real except we know
old Saddam had 'em, hid 'em good
in some Iraqi neighbourhood.

It's now you see 'em, now you don't,
some believe it, others won't,
and we've searched high and we've searched low
but, so far, not a sniff and so,
with hand on heart and solemn face,
admit there ain't a goddamn trace.

But that don't mean they don't exist -
they's out there somewhere, we just missed
locating 'em in all that sand -
it's likely what old Saddam planned -
but, hey, for now, we'll let that pass
'cause we've done caught his sorry ass.

We seek 'em here, we seek 'em there,
we keeps on looking everywhere -
they must be somewhere, I insist
they's solid fact and not Scotch mist -
the day they're found those news reports
will eat their words or eat ma shorts.