The Night Before The Christmas Election

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all
through the parliamentary House
Not a Liberal was stirring, not even a mouse
The tax cuts were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes they would make St. Harper pull out his finely groomed hair

The voters were nesled all snug in their beds
While visions of Paul Martin danced in their heads (Ewwww!)
And Layton in his 'kerchief, and Gille in his fleur-de-lis cap
Had just settled down for a mid-election nap

When out on the Parliament Building lawn there arose such a clatter,
They sprang from their beds to see what was the matter
Away to the window they flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw aside the stash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to electorate-pandering promises below,
When, what to their wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniture sleigh full of popcorn and beer

With a stiff, aloof driver, with hair so even
They knew in a moment it must be St. Stephen
More rapid than eagles his curses they came,
And he grimaced and said Paul Martin was to blame

"Now, Preston! now, Stockwell! now, Harris and that Stronach vixen!
On Bush! On Klein! on, Mulroney and Nixon!
To the top of the conservative party! to the top of the Alberta firewall!
Now taxes away! taxes away! taxes away all!"

As dry heaves that before the pointless election fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, "It's all Belinda's fault!" they cry,
So up to 24 Sussex drive, Harper's sketchy promises they flew,
With a Conservative slate full of neo-cons, and St. Harper too.

And then, in a twinking, Paul Martin heard on his roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As he drew in his hand, and was turning around,
Down the the chimney St. Harper came with a bound.

He was dressed all in blue, from his pointy head to his foot,
And his Sears suit was all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of hidden spending cuts he had flung on his back,
And he looked like an zealous neo-con peddler just opening his libertarian pack.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! his intentions how scary!
His cheeks were like Alberta oil wells, his attitude like a sour cherry
His real little agenda was drawn up like it was progressive
But his planned tax cutting was ridiculously excessive

The stump speech he held tight in his hands,
And he kept referring to drilling in the Alberta oil sands
He had a broad platform and a little round of GST cuts,
That fell apart when he laughed like he was completely nuts

He was meanspirited and wooden, all right-wing and sinister
And they laughed when they saw him, in spite of the has-been Prime Minister
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know Canadians had everything to dread;

He spoke not his word, but went straight to his hidden work,
And secretly promised to fill all the corporate coffers because he's really a jerk,
And laying his fingers aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the corporate ladder he rose.

He quickly blowdried and combed his hair and then sprang to his slate
And away they flew thinking this was the dawn of the 51st state
But they heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

"Happy election to all, and to the Canada we all know a goodnight."