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DEMOCRACY: Government & Politics | December 25, 2000


A Poetic Satire of the 2000 Presidential Election,

In My Christmas Newsletter

Once long ago,

   near a village church steeple,

There lived a good Sovereign,

   named Wee Arda Peeple.

All was well in the land,

   till one season, most sinister,

When time came for Peeple

   to choose a Prime Minister.

Two contenders appeared,

   all too ready to fight --

Two noble of birth,

   and each one a good knight.

There was George, Son of Bush,

   a rich prince rather simple,

And Albert, Sir Chad-alot,

   the Squire of Dimple.

Now, Albert was awkward,

   and a bit of a bore,

And full of bravado

   (and perhaps a bit more).

And George, though he tried

   to be everyone's chum,

Was sometimes befuddled

   and quite tied of tongue.

Well, the Sovereign decreed,

   "Have a match of their wits."

So no one foretold

   George'd give Albert the fits!

"The treas'ry o'erfloweth,"

   cried George with a smirk.

"The tax is too much

   on our wealth and our work!"

"But what of our promise

   to our old and our needy?

And our schools and our wildlands?

   We mustn't be greedy!

"Govern wisely," cried Albert,

   "The state's a good server!"

"Govern less!" cried Prince George,

   with no less of a fervor.

George scolded Sir Albert,

   "You lie like a rug!"

But Albert responded,

   "You've the brain of a bug!"

Abruptly there came

   welcome end to the spin.

And all looked to the Sovereign

   to learn who did win.

"Though the two were well matched,"

   spoke the Sovereign, quite sober,

"I've made up my mind.

   Now this contest is over."

So the Sovereign thus drafted

   his royal selection

And sent it to Parliament

   to seal this election.

But Parliament cried,

   "We can't read what you wrote!"

So the Sovereign responded,

   "I'll tell you my vote."

But Parliament balked,

   "That won't do! Not official!"

So they sent their concerns

   to tribunals judicial.

For weeks, courts discussed

   who did win and did lose,

Till Peeple did sigh,

   "So just whom did I choose?"

One can hope that such trials

   bring no lasting begrudgement.

But wise is the Sovereign

   who trusts his own judgement.

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