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Click here for a great web site By Gridlock traffic slowing us down to a halt, Socialist politicians deny that it’s their fault, Gang guys too plus shots and bullets in the night, One guy shot in church which gave us all
a fright. Fatherless factions in ghetto atmosphere, Rap music background with anxiety and fear, Silence plus dense denial and no witnesses
in sight, A different person shot dead almost every night. Soft justice system helps trade in guns
and drugs and cash, In and out of jail with bail as quick as
a flash, Going to a meeting to renounce those cops, They should stay away from the ghetto and
drug drops. Countless ghetto corridors built high in
the sky, Mad political correctness and no one knows
why, And those who speak out are full of discrimination,
And no one dare discuss this in desperation. Molly coddle prisoners; adscam politicians
can, Names not released because of publication
ban, Of course they wrote the Youth Criminal Justice Act, Gang guys vote of course and when friends
shot; they react. Leadership, leadership where are we going
now? Where can we go, what can do and does time
allow? Quebec referendum three coming down the road Could the country break up while we’re
in this mode?
By A subtle system to increase taxes but highly unfair, They wanted citizens to demand more services by faxes, Then use this as an excuse for raising and finding more taxes. Typical socialist system of tax and spend and pretend, Feed incoming homeless from around the world and overextend, Not just property taxes but they want income taxes too. And poll tax and toll tax in their amalgamation debut. We have no referendums or recall of politicians, As they praise themselves and their autocratic conditions, Can’t ask the province or Though Can’t admit amalgamation was a disappointment, Or that they themselves may indeed be the flies in the ointment, Like all politicians they obscure their socialist agenda, As they piously pump out their pompous propaganda. When By I remember With portraits of the Queen near every pew. No Sunday shops, no music hops, no liquor on display, Where the Lodges and the Legions marched each Victoria Day. Where ensigns flew, Union Jacks too, unique uniforms on parade. A raucous rush of pompous pride by pals from every trade, As they beat the drum down Out to the country and back by Those were loyal times before the war for king and queen and all, For more than a few, this love did cause, their ultimate downfall. It did at They died for king and country; they did it for a song. And soon they were forgotten, those who fought for king and crown, Though those lucky to return had saved the country and the town. They would walk again forever with their flags flying high, Marching medals of the heroes that no one could deny. Except the town of And those fields and sheep and meadows didn’t fit the grand accord. No newcomers paid attention as the veterans vied for space, And their parades of marching medals only had an old-time grace. And Old soldiers faded fast and few and no one had much pity. And the immigrants came in wave after wave from places far and wide, As the soldiers went to grave after grave with their flags and faded pride. But still a few survive today and I’m sure they are not pleased. ‘bout the changes to the town and how From a township to a city where no one cared for esprit de corps, So they amalgamated with And culture clash and bureaucrat and all those changing rules, Of mandarin and moguls and Tamils dressed in jewels, While traffic roared and the buildings soared sometimes to sixty stories, Where women wrapped in saris sashayed in all their glories. They had lost the town without a fight, those men from long ago. And everything was centralized; they said to save some dough, But the authorities had lied again; it was all politically correct, And no one marched, no flags did fly and no one did protest. Still sometimes you can hear it, the distant drone of pipes, And men in kilts still carry on, just watched by boys on bikes. They’re just a faint reminder now of the many marching bands, When those with flags and medals marched and By The socialists at City Hall have their agenda, They want you to read their pompous propaganda, Send garbage to To They say an incinerator could cause some smoke, And the environmentalists might all up and croak, Can’t see a problem sending garbage to the States, In big eighteen wheelers and no need for debates. Trucking stuff a day away gets it out of sight, And no questions please because they’re always right, There is this problem about American chagrin, What’s that sound from City Hall – why it’s a violin. Can’t send it to Because the sky might fall on those who partake, While every other city can find a dump nearby, And They’ll make an announcement to their media soon, Maybe next year on some quiet afternoon, They’d announce it now but you wouldn’t understand, Technical stuff but they have it all planned. They’re going to find a dump when the mayor has the time, Or the Americans close the border to our grime Did someone say they should dump it in the But somewhere far away from our water intake. Where Does By This is difficult to believe and even harder to debate, Hundreds of eighteen wheelers rolling down the four o one, Day and night, night and day they drive, into the setting sun. While countless pompous politicians announce that they are great, Going or coming from the pride parade and saying they are straight, This might cause normal people to think about politicians, But the amalgamation of And every two years garbage men try to do what they like, Demonstrate and demonize and walk off the job on strike, Negotiations go on for days and sometimes even for weeks, Disgusting garbage piles higher while they negotiate techniques. It takes a lot of time while these pompous politicians ponder, And consider their options and delay a little longer, Firemen and policemen are considered vital jobs, Why not garbage men or are they just mobilized as mobs? While every town in the country can find a dump nearby, But not the great city of There’s something very smelly about this complete matter, And on hot summer days it should not be put down to idle chatter. They like to announce their problems solved direct to the media, And lie using every phrase in the encyclopedia, About the reason for this and that but avoid the truth, Afraid that a nearby dump might appear very uncouth. If they incinerate garbage they might cause some smoke, Environmentalists might all just up and croak, Can’t send it by rail to Because the sky might fall on those who partake. |
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