No dead poets in political society

Ex Conservative Party leader, Colin Craig and wife Helen Craig.

New Zealand’s leaders today are not averse to a sonnet, haiku or limerick — or even a few lines of doggerel.

Poets, wrote Percy Bysshe Shelley in 1821, "are the unacknowledged legislators of the world".

"You would say that," legislators have harrumphed ever since. "You're a bloody poet. Why don't you get a real job? And what kind of a name is Percy?"

Still, politicians and verse unquestionably remain intimate bedfellows. Dog-eared, tear-stained screeds of torment and glory and misunderstood genius are to be found in the archives of pretty much every political giant, according to insiders.

Most recently in New Zealand, the tellingly alliterative outgoing and outgoing leader of the Conservative Party, Colin Craig, was reported to be a bit of a bard. The man, this much is clear, has lyric in his soul.

Anyway, with apologies to pretty much everyone, here is a selection of stanzas stolen from under the mattresses of New Zealand politicians. (Obligatory note to lawyers and online commenters: they are not stolen, I made them up. Mostly.)

Coup Detective
by Colin Craig

There is only one of me it's true

But I wish instead of one man, I was two

Or three, or four, any number would do

Together we'd make such a hullabaloo

We'd fill the board vacancies, tickety-boo

Because everyone loves a Conservative Coup

Even if no one knows who's couping who

I hear it's outrating True Detective 2

I'd love to stay and poem with you

But there's several more interviews I've got to do.

The Last Labour Government
by John Key

When Murray and Hmood al-Ali al-Khalaf took the farm

The gulf trade deal made their bed

And baadle-oodle-aadle-ordle-doodle, the suspiciously magpie-toned, air-freighted pregnant ewes said.

Year in, year out, the failure to restore live exports saw attention

Turn to facilitation payments instead

And to be honest this is no place for a farm, the few lambs that hadn't yet died there said.

The farm's still there

The foreign minister couldn't make it bloody well go away

And quardle-oodle this is clearly the fault of the last Labour government, the hardworking Kiwis say.

Sonnet to John
by Bill English

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

No. And I'll tell you why.

1.1 Thee is a human being and the Prime Minister of New Zealand, the elected leader of the largest party in government, the National Party.

1.2 A summer's day is a unit of 24 hours, typically understood to last from one midnight to the next, occurring in summer, the warmest of the seasons, typically understood in New Zealand to span the months December, January and February.

2.1 In conclusion, there is no utility in comparing thee to a summer's day.

This Be the Worst
by Murray McCully

They flock you up, your Saudi friends

They may not mean to but they sue

They bork the agribusiness hub

And spray the fallout over ewe.

Winston
by Winston Peters

Winston! Winston! burning bright

In the forests of the night, with the greatest respect.

I will not cease from mental fight, and frankly it's ridiculous that anyone would suggest otherwise.

Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand, and if you pay attention for a minute you'll see that's demonstrably the case.

Auckland haiku
by Len Brown

A bitter cold chills

Auckland's heart. My heart. But it

is colder down south.

Chilled out entertainer
by John Key

Shoulder length or longer

Here baby, there mama

Everywhere daddy daddy

Hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair.

Double Roses
by Judith Collins

National MP for Papakura, Judith Collins.

Roses are red, but covered in pricks

Roses are thus like the Labour caucus

Labour is red, and National is too

So if you want blue then you know what to do.

David
by David Cunliffe

For one short year or two

I suckled you

with potent milk

of truth and learning

You know my strength, you know my weakness. They are in you

for I am Labour

And I am yours

Around Us
by Metiria and James

Green Party co-leader, James Shaw.

To the barricades, fighting for solar

And for bears and for caps that are polar

But we don't all agree

That homeopathy

Will cure the world of ebola

Home
by Nick Smith

Here's a house, here's a door.

Windows: one, two, three, four. You should really get those fixed.

Ready to knock? Turn the lock!

Jemima doesn't look well.

Oh god, here's Manu, she looks cross, kia ora Manu!

Bloody hell here comes Brook Sabin.