There was movement in the Party, for rumours had sped around
That the little bugger Krudd would make them pay.
And had canvassed the nervous nellies — he was revisiting old ground,
So all the hacks had gathered to the fray.
All the tried and trusted apparachiks from cesspits near and far
Had mustered round their mobiles overnight,
For the factions love hard texting where all the restaurants are,
And the power brokers snuffed the battle with delight.
There was Qudwigson, who made his name when setting people up,
The old man with his hair as white as snow;
But few could stand before him when his blood was fairly up –
He would go wherever threats and faction power could go.
And Smarbibby of the Overthrow came down to lend a hand,
No better knifeman ever worked the phones;
For no one could distract him while power brokers demand,
He learnt his skills while making his union bones.
And one was there a Shortling, a small and venal beast,
Something like a rattlesnake but undersized,
With a touch of Welshish Labor — three parts factional at least –
And such as are by power brokers prized.
He was smooth and svelte and seedy — just the sort that makes you cry –
There was malice in his quick impatient tread;
And he bore the badge of ruthlessness in his shifty little eye,
And the proud and arrogant carriage of his head.
So they went — and found the nellies in an uncertain little clump –
They raced away towards having Kruddy – now,
And the old man gave his orders, `Boys, go at them from the jump,
No use to try for fancy niceties now.
And, Smarbibby, you must wheel them, try and wheel them to the Right.
Strike boldly, lad, and never fear the dills,
For never yet was a broker that could keep the buggers Right,
If once they gain the shelter of Kruddy’s skills.’
So Smarbibby rode to wheel them — he was racing on the wing
Where the best and boldest factionalists take their place,
And he raced his viewpoint past them, and he made the hallways ring
With disendorsement, as he met them face to face.
Then they halted for a moment, while he swung that dreaded lash,
But they saw their well-loved Kruddy full in view,
And they charged beneath the threatening with a sharp and sudden dash,
And off into the Kruddy uncertainty they flew.
When they sought to make a decision, even Smarbibby took a pull,
It well might make the boldest hold their breath,
The uncertain scrub grew thickly, and the hidden ground was full
Of Coalition traps, and any slip was death.
But the Shortling of the Overthrow let his arrogance have its head,
He swung his disendorsement round and gave a cheer,
And he threatened their decision with a torrent of anger and dread,
While the others stood and watched in very fear.
He was right among the nellies as they tried to have a spill,
And the watchers of the caucus standing mute,
Saw him ply the threats most fiercely, he was right among them still,
As he raced across their uncertainties in pursuit.
Then they lost him for a moment, where two toady ministers met
In the corridors, but a final glimpse reveals
On a dim and distant decision the nervous nellies racing yet,
With Shortling of the Overthrow at their heels.
With profound apologies to Banjo Paterson’s ‘Man from Snowy River’.