Here's a topical song I just wrote to the tune of Reuben James (Woody Guthrie's adaption of Wildwood Flower). It should be pretty self explanatory what it's about.

Oh the photograph shows such a sweet pretty face,
With the captives piled like fish in that terrible place.
Was it fishing for secrets? Or to pass the time away,
With those tricks that they teach in Guantanamo Bay.
Well there's some call it torture, some say it's abuse,
And there's some seem to think there's some kind of excuse.
But there's one thing for certain, as the old fellas said,
When a fish starts to stink then it starts at the head.

Oh you don't need no orders when you know what to do,
Just a nod and a wink, and it's all down to you.
From the hills of West Virginia to a cell in Iraq,
It's a long way to fall, and there's no climbing back.
Well there's some call it torture, some say it's abuse,
And there's some seem to think there's some kind of excuse.
But there's one thing for certain, as the old fellas said,
When a fish starts to stink then it starts at the head.

Now they cry stinking fish, and the reason is so clear,
You just need to sniff at the smell in the air –
But when they're looking for scapegoats, to shoulder the shame,
It's the man at the top is the man who's to blame.
Well there's some call it torture, some say it's abuse,
And there's some seem to think there's some kind of excuse.
But there's one thing for certain, as the old fellas said,
When a fish starts to stink then it starts at the head.