I wrote this poem at the end of 2009 when the Liberal Party was in a tizzy about whether to support the government's proposed emissions trading scheme. John Howard (former Liberal Party prime minister) had lost his seat at the 2007 election. The new prime minster was Kevin Rudd of the Australian Labor Party. Peter Costello (famous for his smirk) wouldn't take over the Liberal Party leadership in opposition. Dr Brendan Nelson became Liberal leader for a short time only to be ousted by former merchant banker Malcolm Turnbull. Turnbull was a supporter of emissions trading. This caused an uproar in the Liberal Party, and they then elected Tony Abbott (the mad monk) as the new leader.
The party of the troglodytes had lost its man of steel,
and craved another overlord to bring them all to heel.
The smirking trog turned down the job. Folks knew he was a wanker.
The doctor couldn’t pull it off, so then they tried the banker.
Meanwhile the planet’s heating up – that’s not just trog hot air.
It’s carbon gases spewing out from coal plants everywhere.
They must be shut before seas rise and low land disappears.
But trogs in caves care only how to save their own careers.
The banker trog had stepped outside and sniffed the warming haze,
then urged the party faithful to give up their troggy ways.
The old guard trogs were horrified and raised a dreadful stink:
“Just toe the line you faithless rat! What will big business think?”
Meanwhile the faker party, headed by a kruddy chap,
proposed a carbon trading scheme with such a generous cap
and complimentary permits for the bigger end of town,
who’d rack up windfall profits just by bringing carbon down.
The trogs were in a tizzy since the scheme was not so bad.
It opened up new markets for their business mates to grab.
But troglodytes don’t understand the planet’s getting hot.
Their mantra says that climate change is just a commie plot.
The banker’s mate said “Sign the scheme and get it off our plate!
We’ve more important matters like inciting fear and hate.
Just keep the punters focused on those scapegoat refugees!
Those greenies must be neutered or they’ll spread like some disease.”
Then deep within the darkened cave they heard the mad monk roar:
“Come follow me, as I’m the redneck you’ve been pining for!”
At last the trogs were happy, trotting after monk’s old guard.
For facing up to climate change was all a bit too hard.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- Andrea Bunting
- Melbourne, Victoria, Australia
- I am a sustainability and education consultant. Previously I was a lecturer in sustainable energy. I was originally a mechanical engineer, and later a sociologist of environmental technology, focussing on institutional barriers to wind power. I have long been interested in what motivates people's behaviours in education and sustainability practices. I am now studying psychology to better understand the psychology of climate inaction and unsustainability. I hope to integrate this with an understanding of political and institutional barriers to sustainability. I am strongly committed to social justice. I occasionally write satirical verse, particularly about climate inaction.
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