’Twas the night before Christmas
’Twas the night before Christmas, and across the province, Islanders were out partying, or seeking Divine Providence.
Potato farmers were nestled, all snug in their beds With visions of higher prices dancing in their heads; Our crop safely harvested, unlike last year’s yield, Winter arrived early, thousands of acres left in field.
The premier and Green leader, their cheeks are aglow It warms holiday hearts that bromance continues to grow; For every time a photo of the politicians does appear, They’re in a warm embrace, while Santa says “oh dear.”
A $60 million UPEI student residence soon will begin, A major investment which drew hardly a hand to chin; A new sports and entertainment centre isn’t far from that sum, But continues to founder… questions and criticisms never done.
Council found $100,000 for another study and report, To identity potential funding partners, a fleeting last resort; Yet another Canada Games and Confederation anniversary, Will come and go without even a post-Dorian tree nursery.
Colin LaVie in Souris and Sidney MacEwen in Morell, Refused to give up lobster fishing, come high water or hell; They opted to remain in port, o’er a seat around cabinet table, While Bloyce Thompson said goodbye to dear holstein Mabel.
The fall sitting of the legislature, just a mere 11 days, Earned applause, table thumping under media’s critical gaze; Consultation and co-operation, “It’s the key,” winked Premier King,
House business went behind closed doors, and no one said a thing.
Such a short sitting, under MacLauchlan or Ghiz, The opposition would cry foul, leaving eggnog in a’fizz; Islanders would shriek loudly, on computers in Twitter mode, ‘Politicians are overpaid, with such a brief workload.’
It’s not our fault, government was quick to claim,
We just turned the tables on the Green’s political game; We’re a kinder, gentler party, declared Myers and Fox, Cleverly forcing the Opposition into a Pandora’s Box.
The defeat of electoral reform, it got scarcely a mention, Lost in the drama of a historic Green provincial election; We’re a government in waiting, said the ‘career politician,’ Poised to bring down the Tories, “It’s our real ambition.”
As Lawrence in Midgell celebrated yet another win, Down his chimney Trudeau came, Trump close behind him; The PM was covered in black, ashes from head to toe, Hiding from the Donald, upset by snide comments at NATO.
Islanders chose federal Grits, but a close call up west,
The whiskers on Morrissey’s chin turned white o’er his red vest; Easter and Casey survived, dwindling majorities not so merry, While Lawrence will stay put until he christens a new ferry.
Besieged Andrew Scheer stepped down as Tory leader, He couldn’t beat Trudeau, or knives in back from dear Peter; A pipeline in the Strait threatens our valuable fishery, We don’t want Pictou effluent creating any more misery.
The Confederation Bridge is raising its toll fee, While le pont Champlain offers passage for free;
A red flag for Percy Downe, a betrayal he did howl, On P.E.I.’s vital transportation link, a burden most foul.
The Jack Frost festival is returning to centre of town,
The events grounds is free for gravel, behind a sand mound; The popular Brackley drive-in is adding a second screen, Railcars will ensure that more Disney movies will be seen.
The premier is still calling Panthers hockey play-by-play, Greta Thunberg is upset, climate action delayed another day; Mike Redmond surprised all when Mr. Myers he endorsed, A clear message for Joe Byrne, a leader he scorned, of course.
Away to Hillsborough Bridge,
Santa flew like a flash, But was caught in traffic, down to one lane by a crash; The smell of the sewage pipeline, spilled across new fallen snow, Spooked Santa’s reindeer, no presents tonight in Stratford below.
To the top of Province House, so bleak in winter’s grip, Santa asked why construction is so slow, did they go on a trip? Scaffolding remains, renovations over $50 million we’re told, Perhaps the stones beneath are paved in silver and gold.
A bundle of toys Mayor Philip Brown has on his back, He quickly found an Airbnb to unload his heavy pack;
His eyes sought out Tweel, his dimples bulging like a berry, The issue of crackhouses made his nose glow like a cherry.
More rapid than bald eagles, the cruise ships they came, Horsewagons clogged streets, harbour hippos stuck in muddy drain; The Lands Protection Act, it needs loopholes closed now, To halt 3,000-acre sales, no IRAC or public scrutiny somehow.
When what to educators’ wondering eyes should appear? No, not the welcoming prance of Rudolf and reindeer;
But elected boards are back, exulted Minister Trivers, One promise kept, while more, like new schools, still dither.
So up to the house tops hurricane Dorian blew and blew, Knocking over countless trees, and many power poles too; The Island was in darkness from this unexpected fall storm, Myers vowed to clean up the mess ‘ere this Christmas morn.
The Guardian office is soaring upwards by two floors more, Not to hire editors or reporters, to write news stories galore; But housing for college students, who need more dorm rooms, Perhaps even affordable housing for the poor, Santa presumes.
The province is asleep tonight under a blanket of snow and ice, There were highlights aplenty this year, more naughty than nice.
And I heard Santa exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight, Merry Christmas, Happy New Year! And to all a good night!