With apologies to Clement Clarke Moore

Twas two nights before the election and all around the place,
Not a voter was stirring or showing their face,
We were out shifting cones where politicians campaigned,
Shouting ‘rotters’ or ‘liars’ at opponents defamed,
Canvasser canvassed while front doors slammed shut,
Cries of pain sometimes following an unwisely stuck foot,

While we stood checking passes and permits on show,
Cute babies were kissed and superlatives did flow,
A Junior Minister stayed in town for the night,
Promising visits from Prime Ministers if we voted right,
Opposing parties vied in all our towns roads,
We’d have preferred a punch-up by these condescending toads

Now Bunting festoons the front of our town hall,
Ready for an election of no one special after all,
Dignitaries all puffed up and full of esteem,
Talked of ‘integrity’ and vented their spleen,
Banged on about freedom or the war in Iraq,
Forgot all we wanted was less tax on our back.

When it is all over and the circus leaves our streets,
We’ll pick traffic cones up and bathe aching feet,
Watching the hoopla, the cheers and the roars,
Wondering what all the excitement was for,
No matter who gets elected I have this to confess,
We won’t get a difference just another fine mess.

Bill Sticker