The Unlamented

The Federal Parliament died today. During its last few hours of life it rushed through a Budget involving £62,000,000 of the taxpayers' money.

What are the bells all tolling for?
    The simple voter cried.
"For Parliament, for Parliament,"
    The traffic cop replied.
"They're ringin' out ole Parliament,
    'oo's talked 'imself to death;
An' the mourners isn't many now
    'e's gone an' slipped 'is breath;
An' no man knows for certain where
    'is spirit wandereth;
But we'll 'ave some peace and quiet
    in the mornin'."

"And was he useful while he lived?"
    The simple voter cried.
"I 'ave me doubts concernin' that,"
    The traffic cop replied.
"I 'ave me doubts concernin' that.
    So far as I can see,
'E wasn't much real benefit to
    blokes like you an' me;
Tho', bless yer 'art, 'e knew the
    way to splash our L.S.D.;
But the spendin' it is endin' in the
    mornin'."

"And did he spend an awful lot?"
    The simple voter cried.
"A tidy bit; a fairish lump,"
    The traffic cop replied.
"'Twould raise yer 'air to 'ear about
    the quids that 'e could blow;
For over sixty million was the sum
    that 'e got thro'
When lyin' on 'is death-bed leavin'
    blokes like me and you
Each about twelve pound the poorer
    by the mornin'."

"And do we have to pay for this?"
    The simple voter sighed.
"You bet yer bloomin' boots we 'ave,"
    The traffic cop replied.
"We pays the blinkin' piper, while
    the spenders 'as the fun.
We went an' backed our fancy, but
    we never 'ad a run;
We was dozin': we was dreamin',
    when the dirty deed was done,
An' we're sixty million poorer by
    the mornin'."

"And did he aught but spend our
    cash?"
    The simple voter cried.
"Well, nothin' to write 'ome about,"
    The traffic cop replied.
"'E talked a lot, an' baulked a lot—
    like 'e 'as done before—
At things 'e really ort to do. 'E 'eld
    the blessed floor,
An' made a silly speech or two, an'
    then 'e talked some more;
But 'is trap is shut an' silent in the
    mornin'."

"But what strange sort of beast was
    this?"
    The simple voter cried.
"Oh, a sorter hybrid animile,"
    The traffic cop replied.
"For Charlton was the tail of it, an'
    Hughes, 'e was the 'ead;
An' Page 'e was the middle part—or
    so I've 'eard it said.
But no one's sobbin' sorrowful to
    'ear that 'e is dead;
An' there won't be any mournin' in
    the mornin'."

"And will the body rise again?"
    The simple voter cried.
"Why, that's for blokes like you to
    say,"
    The traffic cop replied.
"You can plant 'im, 'olus-bolus—
    bones and body in 'is grave;
Tho' maybe there's is bits of 'im
    you'll 'ave a mind to save.
But as for splashin' cash, I fear
    'e never will behave
    So you'd take an' think it over till
    the mornin'."