‘Twas on the wreck of the Trumble
That the port steering Oz did stumble
And veer toward a future flawed
With policies interminable, made to crumble.
The tug boat Greens did sail their fraud
To prevent ‘The Oz’ steering starboard
They screeched and moaned and bitched and boned
‘Cause it’s in their arses their brains are stored.
The moaning, leaking old galleon ‘Shorten’
Whose ship’s manifest needed aborten
Sat limp with a sail on a flaccid length of pale
And complained that none but unions came courtin’.
Out of the dark clouds steamed ‘The Pauline’
Her bows awash, with a great head of steam
An armada of dread, vengeance in red
Ending the Marxist’s perverted, foul dream.
The crew of ‘The Trumble’ with no Abbott remorse
Scuttled their boat rather than change course
And hid in fear as ‘Pauline’ caned their rear
With a broadside of righteous conservative force.
Virtue signalling their clear intent
The tug boat rabble got totally bent
As ‘The Pauline’ drew alongside, sending Green pride
Into spasms of spurious socialist vent.
The galleon ‘Shorten’ was hulled like old crockery
Rammed by ‘The Pauline’ and XYZ’s mockery
Its limp, lifeless sail broadcasting, ‘What a fail,
Not even good enough to become used old sockery.’
From out on the shore gazed the XYZ
Watching ‘The Pauline’ kill them all dead
The war that they wage now only impotent rage
As they scuttled their vessels on an unforgiving beachhead.
Any time soon, ‘The Trumble’ will fail
Sink in self-importance, blaming all else for its flail
The tug jobs will sink and back to obscurity slink
From the deep, the dreadnought ‘Abbott’ will again sail.
And ‘The Oz’ will steer to starboard again…