Two years ago in Montreal,
Liberal delegates one and all,
Gathered there to start anew,
And find a leader tried and true.

First, Ignatieff bent to the right,
A neo-con with looks to smite.
Then, Bob Rae, born again,
Endowed with political acumen.

And last there was Stéphane Dion,
Ancien Ministère de l’Environnement,
Who bore a slight resemblance to
Kermit, who led the muppet crew.

Who would ascend to Trudeau’s throne?
One who Liberals called their own.
Not Iggy with his willful tongue,
Who lost no sleep over Lebanon’s young
,
Not the reformed Rae whose card,
Somehow convinced the Liberal vanguard
That voters in Ontario
Would simply let their bygones go.

Instead the loyal ex-Minister,
The sovereigntist-eating tree-hugger.
A signal over mounting bills,
That Liberals stood on principles,
Not words designed with care, and wrought,
Not the expedience that Rae brought,
Nor Rae and Goodale and their lot.
There would be no compromise here:
We no longer drink of Chrétien’s Beer!’

Compromise, a funny word,
With two years past sounds less absurd,
Et le petit gars de Shawinigan,
A wiser man, despite his sin.