My name is Fred and I am a gay conservative living in Ottawa. This blog supports limited government, the right of the State of Israel to live in peace and security, and tries to expose the threat to us all from cultural relativism, post-modernism, and radical Islam. I am also the founder of the Free Thinking Film Society in Ottawa (

Sunday, December 18, 2005

A Christmas Poem...

'Twas the night before the election, and all through the House, not a creature was stirring, not even a same-sex spouse.

The whistleblowers were hung out to dry with care,
In hope that integrity soon would be there.

The spin doctors were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of sugar-coating danced in their heads.

Goodale in his kerchief with no spending cap,
And Layton settled down with a long fiscal trap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
Belinda wanted another deal on a platter.

"If Harper wins I'll fly back in a flash,
"To be a Tory again and I'll give up my sash."

The moon shone brightly on Parliament Hill,
But who in the shadows hand his hands in the till?

When, what would my wondering eyes see out there?
A sleigh and eight Liberals, flying through the air.

With a little old driver, so sneaky and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Slick.

More rapid than tax cuts his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, Dingwall! now, Cariveau! now, Coffin and Brault!
"On Ouellet! on, Lafluer! on, Guite and Gagliano!
"To the top of the Peace Tower! to the top of the wall!
"Hide the cash away! cash away! cash away all!:

So up to the house-top the Liberals they flew,
With the sleigh full of blank cheques, and Paul Martin too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard them all linger,
The prancing and pawing of each greedy finger.

As I held onto my wallet, and was turning around,
Down the chimney Paul Martin came with a bound.

He was banged up and bruised but he didn't care,
'Cause Paul Martin had access to better health care;

A bundle of promises he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples so fun!
He said, "Vote for me, and I'll ban the handgun!"

There was no sign of children, they must have been hiding;
Or else they were being looked after by Minister Dryden.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
"Those bastard Americans, I'll sell them our beef;"

He had a broad face but his smile was fading,
When he learned all the rumours of insider trading.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
But they can't have my kids, I'll raise them myself.

They'll give nothing to parents, for they greatly fear:
We'll blow all the money on popcorn and beer.

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
The thought of him winning brought nothing but dread;

He took out his golfballs, and went straight to his work.
And filled up Chretien's stocking, then called him a jerk.

He looked at his watch, and cried out "Oh no,
"I cannot be late, for my meeting with Bono;"

He gave his team a whistle, and a brown envelope,
And away they all flew on a sharp upward slope.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he left the Peace Tower,
"Merry Christmas to all - but please - keep me in power!"

-- written by Jeffrey Morris


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