This is inspired by the efforts of Britain’s new foreign secretary.
I’ll start.
There was a young lady from Taiwan
Who like a vampire avoided the sun
Her skin turned so white
Even the ghosts got a fright
At her face not to mention her buns
Have to make one for Sanchong 
There was a young man from Keelung
Whose eggs, on the job, barely swung
So he saw a noodle vendor
And she stretched him till tender
So all he needs now is some work on his tongue
Wow, pretty stretched on the syllable count, dude.
There was an old coot from Xinyi
Whose manners were bad as could be
He’d cut in the queue
His snot he would spew
And the hairs from his mole would grow free
There was a tea vendor from Sanchong.
Who flavored his drinks with his own slong.
He said with a grin
as he whipped out his pin,
Adding plastic or oil
would be quite wrong.
There was a poster called ‘rocket’,
who could pull haikus out of his pocket.
He called out offenders, and berated pretenders,
And told them all to just sock it.
We’re supposed to count the syllables? 
There go my pretensions to literary greatness.
There was a Canadian in Taidong
Who was partial to weed from a bong
T’was all hid up his clacker
When he was turned in by Chewbacca
Just so he could get a sniff of the tongs