on June 18, 2024, 3:22 am
A poem composed when riding my e-bike in the Wairarapa countryside, which looks nice but mostly just smells of festering cow shit and piss. .
As a word of explanation, read the above, but also
https://www.msn.com/en-nz/news/other/watch-hysteria-jones-says-nz-won-t-meet-dreamy-fairytale-2030-paris-agreement-goal/ar-AA1lmwFr (hysteria)
https://www.newshub.co.nz/home/politics/2024/05/shane-jones-slams-woke-riddled-left-amid-energy-debate-chl-e-swarbrick-fires-back.html (woke)
To be read aloud in the most theatrical and sneering, Rickmanish voice possible.
A Spanner in the Works of Reason.
In our House of Representatives , there’s one great idi-ot
That here outranks in stupidness all others in that spot.
It’s Mr Jones, who scorns the claims the planet’s getting hot:
“No scientist could have the brain like one that I have got –
I know it’s woke hysteria, or my name is not Jock Sprott.”
So Mr Jones, you are that bright? But really you are not,
The problem being your's is the brain where reason goes to rot,
And as a spanner in the works, you are the dire mascot:
If I were a golfer, you’d be the di-vot,
If I were a carpenter, you’d be the knot,
If I were an artery, you’d be the clot,
If I were a duck, you’d be the shot,
If eaten by cannibals, you’d be the pot,
If I were a laptop, you’d be the bot,
If I were a scribe, you’d be the blot,
If I had a cold, you’d be the snot.
If ignorance it were a drink, you’d be the drunken sot,
There’s not a thing about you that’s worth a single jot
(As farmer Jeremy Clarkson says, not even diddly-squat).
I do not wish you any harm, at least not such a lot,
But Shane, for God our Saviour’s sake, to your own planet trot,
That with you gone so far away, the rest of us may plot
That moral men and women we can then for sense allot
To save our Earth with all the science you fecklessly forgot.
JKM May 2024
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