Posted on 12/24/2002 6:00:48 AM PST by Clive
'Tis the night before Christmas, and all through State House
not a creature is sleeping, not even my spouse.
An intractable problem's defying my might:
there's no petrol in Zim and no shipment in sight.
I've spoken to Muscat, Tehran and Riyadh,
Caracas and Qatar, Kuwait and Baghdad.
I've searched in Jakarta, Bahrain and Algiers,
but my pleas have been falling on stoney-deaf ears.
I've begged and I've bargained, I've offered our soil,
and still no-one's willing to send me some oil.
I've faxed and I've e-mailed, used the post, used the phone,
but none will oblige with a small long-term loan.
It's that scoundrel in London, that gay gangster Blair.
He's been queering my pitch, which is very unfair.
And those guys in the White House - they're also to blame.
Powell and Bush - they've besmirched my good name.
All those Kinnocks and Pattens, McKinnons and Royces,
all those Ancrams and Hains - they've been raising their voices
to plot and prevent what I truly deserve:
some petrol and lubricants, AVGAS and DERV.
And the Clarks and the Howards, the Danes and the Swedes.
They've all been conspiring to frustrate my needs.
Norwegians and Dutchmen! They've launched an attack.
And Festus had better start watching his back.
And don't forget Midzi, and all of those bankers.
I've bent over backwards, but no-one will thank us.
The aches in my stomach and head - I digress...
How on earth am I going to get out of this mess?
Now Thabo! Bakili!
Muammar and Sam!
Now Fidel! Mahathir!
Eduardo and Jiang!
Now Joaquim and Levy!
Olusegun and Joe!
Won't you stump up some cash for a fellow you know?
(with apologies to Clement Clarke Moore)
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