[Reprise Part 1]: 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 amongst 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.
And he ran them single-handed till they began to whine and moan.
He followed like a bloodhound at their back,
Till they voted cowed and beaten, and he told the news on a mobile phone,
Alone and unassisted, he had brought them back.
But his hardy mate Smarbibby could scarcely cast a plot,
He was cowed by the moment when he should have used the spur;
His pluck was somewhat daunted, and his courage not too hot,
And faceless power brokers saw him as the cur.
And down by Canberra lakeside, where the ego-seekers raise
Their horns to rugged battlements on high,
Where the air is clear of rumour, and the Kruddy’s lost his blaze
Faded to the backbench to die,
And where around news desks the journo’s bend and sway
To the rumours, and the pollies little titbit asides,
Shortling of the Overthrow is a household word today,
And awe filled pollies tell the story of his hide.
Again with profound apologies to Banjo Patterson.