Well, let's see if this silly thing works.

"The Fighting Barristers"
Lyrics and Music: Maureen S. O'Brien, 10/4/00

CH:
(And they were)
Rabb and Krylov, the best there ever were!
Rabb and Krylov, the fighting barristers!
(repeat)

'Twas on the Chechen border and 'twas to the Chechen War
The Amerikantsi sent H. Rabb from the Navy JAG Corps.
His record long and crazy and his heart not knowing fear --
Too bad he met Krylov, the craziest Army lawyer here!

Krylov had an obsession and Krylov he had a plan, 
But it only sounded normal to that crazy Navy man.
So off they went into the hills, a general to catch,
But the general was wilier, and the Chechens he did fetch.
CH:

The general sold weapons, Rabb and Krylov counted guns
On a convoy way out in the hills. They thought it would be fun.
But the Chechens found the convoy where the general had said.
They sniped down with their rifles; and ten Russians fell down dead.

It was down to Rabb and Krylov and the AK's in their hands.
Their aim was sure and steady, and they made a gallant stand.
The Chechens were too many; they could never fight them all;
But with every shot, Rabb and Krylov made a Chechen fighter fall.
CH:

Now Krylov, he was not afraid to fight until the end,
But Rabb, he said, "Now let's retreat and live to fight again.
The general may beat us on his chosen battlefield, 
But he must lose to us in court, with the legal minds we wield."

"For we are Rabb and Krylov, and we seldom lose a case,
And he'd prefer our murder, 'cause we're what he fears to face.
So let these Chechens get away with the convoy they have bought.
At least our rifles showed them that the merchandise is hot!"
CH:

You know the rest; no need to make this forty verses long.
Besides, the courtroom fight deserves another forty songs.
But good won over evil -- well, mostly, anyway --
So 'never send Rabb back again', the generals all pray.

The moral of this story? Well, I think it's plenty plain --
Never let loose cannons work with those just as insane!
For they'll bounce off each other, and draw still more of their ilk,
And then they say, "They'll sing of us!" 
                               -- which tends to lead to filk.
CH: