Got home late from work after being held up in a meeting
Flicked on 7.30 just in time to see Paul Keating
I enjoy Keating sometimes, but the enjoyment’s often fleeting
I can tolerate his sharp wit but I hate it when he’s bleating
But what I saw was a very sombre ageing past PM
Eager to knife the backroom boys , eager to condemn
“The government’s authority to rule was torn away from them
The soulcase of the party destroyed by the faceless men”.
“Good men like Iemma & Watkins thrown out on the street
The spirit of the party fractured, smashed from head to feet
The party machinery’s responsible for this massive defeat
Bernie Riordan long ago should’ve been dead meat”.
“Putting Robertson in charge will only be further impeding
Jumping on trains & buses doesn’t make him good at leading
He brought Iemma down at the party’s very own conference meeting
He’s lost all moral authority & with him they’ll cop another beating”!
Branding Hawker’s “sicko populism” as proof of no belief
“And their addiction to the polls will not bring them any relief
They’re lead in Gillard’s saddle bags, they must turn over a new leaf
Or they’ll be in opposition for many years of angst & pain & grief”.
His “Road Runner to Hewson’s coyote” tale shows he’s still delusional
When questioned about Gillard’s continued struggles for approval
Although he won’t be drawn to comment on the prospects of her removal
His sad voice denotes a man who knows they’ve lost kit and caboodle
He’s philosophical when asked why Labor voters were so quick to leave
But strongly denies the cancer’s spread to Canberra, a moment of qui vive?
Then I wondered why Keating was so demure, resigned, almost relieved
Because deep down in his heart of hearts, even he doesn’t believe.
No comments:
Post a Comment