There’s a town on the river,
Where bureaucrats shiver,
And ad agencies moil for gold,
Where the dot-coms imploded,
The reporters are loaded,
And the politics don’t break the mould.

Now the Ottawa lights,
Have seen some queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see,
Was that budget pre-empted,
When the Tories attempted,
The Remaking of Jim Fla’rty.

Now old Jim, he did hail,
From a suburban dale,
In the land that they call 905.
And back in his shire,
He was known to inspire,
The far right with his jump and his jive.

At Queen’s Park with Mike Harris,
Jim was tough, never careless,
In his slash-and-burn cabinet gig.
“Cut taxes, cut welfare,
Crush unions, we don’t care,
Squeegee kids should be tossed in the brig!”

Hard-line Jim ran for leader,
But waffling Ernie was sweeter,
So Common Sense soon went to heck.
But the new guy, he did fumble,
And the Tories did crumble,
Up the Rideau our hopeful Jim trekked.

A political marriage,
And the Grits’ own miscarriage,
Built a Tory minority slim.
But to impose their plan sour,
They must have real power,
And that’s why they made over our Jim.

Our laissez faire sentinel,
Quickly tacked central,
Chasing power, for which his team lusts.
“I’ll be gentle and caring,
Rehabilitate sharing,
I might even tax income trusts!”

So with budget oh-seven,
Facing political heaven,
And a confidence showdown at last,
Jim ignored spending caps,
And turned open the taps,
And the cash, it did flow thick and fast.

The seniors get a bunch,
The truckers a free lunch,
The farmers get bucks big and small.
Colleges, daycare,
Subsidized bus fare,
And Quebec gets the most of them all.

The vast funds being transferred,
Strike some as haphazard,
But there’s method behind the largesse.
Each group being wooed,
Hasn’t yet been True-Blued,
And to that end, dear Jim is obsessed.

The one group left out,
Were the natives; no doubt,
They’ll get nothing more than a few specks.
But this doesn’t bug Jim,
It might truly help him
Keep the active support of red necks.

Of course, Jim’s a smart cookie,
No political rookie,
Understanding just what he must do:
He’ll try with his feats,
To win most of the seats,
Then again his true blue can shine through.

“The Bloc will not spike it,
Jack Layton might like it,
Either way, we’re assured of a pass.
And by winter’s first snow,
To the booths voters go,
And our MPs will triumph en masse.

“It’s the political riddle
Pushes us to the middle,
But not for too long, me doth think.
And for now it’s quite funny,
To give out so much money.
It’s the first time in life I’ve been pink!”

Now the Ottawa lights,
Have seen some queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see,
Was that budget pre-empted,
When the Tories attempted,
The Remaking of Jim Fla’rty.

Jim Stanford

Jim Stanford is economist and director of the Centre for Future Work, and divides his time between Vancouver and Sydney. He has a PhD in economics from the New School for Social Research in New York,...