‘Twas two weeks before Christmas, when all through the House
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The Speaker’s robe hung, by the flash Speaker’s Chair
In hopes that the “govment” next year – is still there.
Coalition MPs nestled, all snug in their beds
While visions of nut jobs dance in their heads.
Their dream was to lure, One Nation’s sweet hearts
‘Cause the Right Wing had tightened a grip on their parts.
Then out on the lawn, there arose such a clatter.
Journos sprang from their beds to ask, what’s the matter.
The Minister called them all, out to confess,
“The grass is dying and the climate’s a mess.”
“We’ll have a review and consider all options.”
Will an emissions scheme be up for adoption?
“Well, we need to do more, it really is warmer.”
The PM nods, silent – or he’ll be a goner.
Cory and Tony call to their peers,
“Nobody listen to these stupid ideas.
“Turn up your air con, the grass will still grow
“What do the experts and scientists know?”
The storm grows quickly with lightning and thunder
And there’s nowhere to hide for the PM down under.
When shock jocks get angry, when they curse and they cuss
The minister is quickly thrown under a bus.
Mal stands at a mic, to the press; “Let’s be clear,
“There’ll be nothing of the sort, like that, around here.”
The deniers don’t like it, he’s gotta be smart
Or the government will tear itself wide apart.
So, when Parliament’s all tattered, the weeds thick and dense
Don’t need something fancy, just build a tall fence.
With their heads in the sand and the facts out of sight,
It’s, “Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”
First published by Jim Pembroke in The Big Smoke December 12, 2016