The Tribune

By INIGO 'NAUGHTY' ZENICAZELAYA

‘Twas the night before Christmas when all through the House,

Every MP was stirring, from “superstar” to “louse.”

The stockings were hung in the smokers’ room with care, obviously “Lanisha” didn’t decorate in there.

Minister and backbenchers avoided their beds,

As visions of pay raises danced in their heads.

Doc sat in the kitchen, with his brother “Boxer” square on his lap,

Saying

“Why you gee that ‘conchy joe’ woman dat slap?

Now I gat to deal with all kind of crap.”

When out of the blue there arose such a clatter,

Then Halston Moultrie appeared, and the whole House scattered,

Away to the window Moultrie flew like ‘red flash’,

Tore open the shutters, and prepared for another “media” clash.

The moon peered down on Bahamaland below,

As Doc gazed up wondering,

“Why Ferreira still so slurry and slow, and why he got that goat and three birds in tow?”

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear?

Two ex FNM MPs toting plates out of there.

Now the PLP with a brave-hearted driver, so lively and quick

Saying, “I say Shane ain’t gern ta jail, we far too slick,”

And faster than Miller from Golden Isles carried his behind,

Doc shouted, “Office of the Spouse, a year later, is working just fine!”

“Now Dionisio! Now Jeff!

On Duane! Carl ! and Marvin !

“Don’t study Brave, for him our people ain’t starving, and oh by the way, nice suit Marvin”

Meanwhile, green with envy, spying way across the land,

Kolomafe groaned saying, “DNA is a party and yes we still stand.”

Freddy Mac jumped up, and said, “You know I’se speak my mind,

I’ne scared a none a yinna, and Freeport don’t tote no line!”

Travis sprung up, and said, “Don’t forget da Over-da Hill plan, and yes

Doc you still the man.”

Peter was in the corner, playing blind and deaf,

Thinking, “When da IMF finish, we’ne ga have nuttin left!”

Doc stood up, his mouth drawn up like a bow,

The hair on his head was suddenly white as snow,

He started shaking, like a bowl full of jelly,

Saying, “Man, I cracked them once, now the Press all in my belly!”

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself,

And slowly put the Mace back on top of the shelf;

The look in his eye, and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but sat down all forlorn,

Then said, “The Honeymoon over, next election I probably gone?”

Brave rode away, like the down of a thistle,

Saying, “These FNMs just as guilty, so you point and I’ll whistle!”

Doc went to bed, and turned out the light -

Merry Christmas everyone, and please lock your doors tight!