Election Day

The conversation went like so:

“What do you mean, the economies broke?”
He paced up and down, he threw a sharp look.
“I leave for a day and it’s falling apart?”

The minister shook his head, “I played little part.
The bankers kept banking and that was the start.
They kept building houses, apartments and yachts,
Sure what could I do with the money I got?”

An Taoiseach was raging, as Biffo’s would do.
“Imbecile! Imbecile! Have you not a clue?
They’ll rip me to shreds, they’ll feed me to DJ’s,
They’ll write as if this is the end of my working days.”

“Ah now.” Said the minister, “Sure it’ll be grand.
Hide for a while; stick your head in the sand.”
The Taoiseach looked sinister, holding his glass –
“Of those who’ll be gone, I’ll make sure I’m the last.

“I won’t take the fall for mistakes that we’ve made.
‘May be the leader, but I’ll make sure that I stay.
I’ll blame it on those that who can’t put up a fight,
The front lining bankers, the nurses at night.

“The doctors, the policemen, the farmers and hens
The taxi men, ice cream men, the old firemen.
I’ll blame it on Unions, on Onions and Scalps.
I won’t take the blame if that can be helped.”

“But sir, beg my pardon, I hasten to ask,
Was it not you that took up this task?
To govern the country, to build on a boom?
To carry on singing to Bertie’s old tune?”

“Oh dear me, oh dear me,” An Taoiseach continued,
Believe what you want – if that is believed.
I’m a leader of nothing more than an ideal,
And deeper and deeper, it’s in me to steal.

“Granted this party has partied for long,
We’ve outstayed our welcome, we do not belong.
But the people don’t matter when elections come round.
The need to chin up, keep their feet on the ground.

“It isn’t our fault, no, it’s everyone elses,
The bankers, the crankers, it’s what ever I tell’s ya’s -
So lets make it look good, make it look like we care,
And when election day comes we’ll make sure that we’re there…”

Written By Shane Ferguson
On The 3rd November 2009