Dangerous Fartin' Martin
A bunch o' polyticians was whoopin' it up in the Ottywa Parliment;
The feller who sits in the speaker's chair refereein' the arguments;
Up on the TV, in solo spot, sat Pryminister Fartin' Martin,
An' watchin'm sqirm was the opposin' worms, their rebuttals about t' be startin'.
The Pryminister's fears been a-buildin' fer years, ever since he got wind o' the mess,
When the Liberal crooks fergot the rulebooks, now PollyWog wants t' confess.
He looked like a man without any plan an' that's how he's looked from the start;
The deficit-slayer weren't really a player, O Paulie, yer breakin' my heart.
"Jest gimme a chance, hear my song, watch my dance, let Gomery finish his stuff,"
The pryminister sed with his face turnin' red. "One election a year is enuff."
After PollyBoy's speech, jumpin' into the breach, was Conservative Stevie Harpoon;
Not a hair outta place, Harper's ready t' race an' he wants that there race t' start soon.
"The Grits is corrupt, Canucks're fed up, we know all we're needin' t' know."
Without shakin' a fist or breakin' a sweat, Harpoon sed, "The Liberals must go."
Stevie's hair's lookin' grey, guess he likes it that way; it gives'm a look of seniority.
Mebbe this time around, the Grits'll go down. Ol' Harper could get a majority.
Next up on the bill was the boy they call Jill, the BlocHead from outta Q-Beck;
He's got lots t' gain from the Liberal pain an' he's ready t' wring Polly's neck.
The CheeseHat's all hurt on accounta the dirt happened under his cheese-smellin' nose;
Singin' "Gens du Pays," the AdScam payees is mostly Q-beckers, I s'pose.
Ol' Gomery's the homme who can throw out the bums an' take away legal immunity,
An ironical twist with a Liberal assist, Duceppe scores against national unity.
Then after them three, we all got t' see Jack Laydown a-sportin' his smile;
He's hedgin' his bets an' he ain't ready yet t' go t' the polls fer awhile.
It looks like ol' Jack is on the attack, rattlin' off all them AdScam confessions,
But elections can wait, sez the NDP boss, till we get us sum budget concessions.
Ol' HappyJack's talkin', pontiffically squawkin', 'bout sponsorship programs gone sour;
Cock-o'-the walk, he's talkin' the talk like he's holdin' the balance o' power.
The leaders was done with their speeches an' fun an' the pundits lept into their blather
'Bout Canajun elections an' Canajun crooks an' polyticians all in a lather.
The pundits can't wait til ol' Paul sets the date and the country can get out an' vote
Fer a better bunch who don't want a free lunch an' who knows we're all in the same boat.
A squeaky clean gummint, now that's what we need, I say let's get us one soon.
We can't hardly wait fer an election date, the twenty-seventh of June.
BIGASS UPDATE: Whooee! Thanks t' Johnny Fewings the cartoon man, I got this here poem posted up as an audio MP3. Click here t' listen t' JimBobby recitin' Dangerous Fartin' Martin.