Thursday, June 30, 2011

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Your grandson at the abortion clinic before he was born,
Was killed; will never have a name and no one will even morn,
It was made legal by a Supreme Court decision long ago,
There is no legal obligation that you should even know.

There is something very wrong here though, as you can plainly see,
A civilized society controlled by a group of appointees,
And no one can ask because it’s all politically correct,
Death by abortion and Canadians cannot interject.

Therefore we all need binding referendums like the Swiss,
Elected Senate and Supreme Court and please, no more of this,
Proportional representation and no more first past the post,
And death with dignity might help some of us sick and old the most.

June 30th, 2011

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

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To Hell or Havana

Hurry up McGillacuddy, you’ll soon be on your way.
No more you’ll hunt the pheasants with a shotgun by the bay,
No more you’ll watch the farmers cutting turf down by the bogs,
Or sheep up on the mountains being herded by the dogs.

You’ll seldom hear the pipes again or watch the colleens dance.
You’ll join the long tradition; no there’s not a single chance,
That there’s work for you in Ireland; the economy is dead.
It’s nineteen fifty four my boy; too many mouths to be fed

Hurry up McGillacuddy show them that you’re keen,
Get on that dock and board that ship you’re almost seventeen.
Don’t show them that your heart is broke or that you want to cry,
You’re proud to be an Irishman so hold your head up high.

This ship is packed with emigrants from England, Scotland, Wales.
They’re singing blimey British songs and telling taller tales.
They say you’ve got a brogue my friend and that you’re young and green,
Your patriotic pride is hurt when you’re almost seventeen.

Hurry up McGillacuddy you’re a stranger on your own.
The loneliness you’ve come to know hurts right down to the bone.
You’ll never fish the Fergus or walk Rinanna hunting hare.
These strangers here don’t know your world nor do they even care.

That place you knew just the other day; it’s gone forever now.
Was it all just an illusion -- another world somehow?
Where are those voices that you heard -- the choir in the church?
When you had all the answers and no god-forsaken search.

Hurry up McGillacuddy forget all you have done.
Canadian Immigration waits at Pier twenty-one.
They’ll process you in a minute flat and send you on your way.
You’re one of a thousand immigrants came to Halifax today.

The train is long and crowded too; no time for much emotion,
Past names like Shibinacadie it glides in locomotion.
Trapped days and nights in a carriage tight with your loneliness and pride,
You have to endure this steady strain and take it in your stride.

Hurry up McGillacuddy you’re going to shovel shit,
On a farm near Burlington; it wont hurt your pride a bit.
Three milk machines and a washcloth rag with forty Holstein cows,
In a barn big as a cathedral, some goats, some pigs, some sows.

And when you’re done with milking and feeding all that pork,
There’s a meadow with bales of hay as big as County Cork.
These farmers are a dour lot with harrows hoes and ploughs,
They toss those bales of hay all day and then milk forty cows.

Hurry up McGillacuddy, time to change career,
Your pay is nearly nothing; this slavery austere,
And the loneliness that lingers and haunts you day and night,
On a vast expanse of farm where you have no birthright.

You’re off to join the navy and you’re going back to sea,
But first to Cornwallis where you dare not disagree.
It’s yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir and running all around.
And when you’re finished marching you better go pipe down.

Hurry up McGillacuddy you’re on a navy ship,
And when you’re old enough, they’ll give you lots of rum to sip.
You’re an able seaman signalman; read those flags and flashing lights.
You’re off to the Caribbean and maybe see some sights.

It was midnight in Havana when Batista ruled the day,
And Castro ruled the hills but you had to spend your pay.
That girl with hair as black as coal, she lured you into sin,
Did you go to confession yet; how long has it been?


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I remember Scarborough proud Protestant and blue,
With portraits of the Queen near every pew.
No Sunday shops, no music hops, no liquor on display,
Where the Lodges and the Legions marched each Victoria Day.

Where ensigns flew, Union Jacks too, unique uniforms on parade.
A raucous rush of pompous pride by pals from every trade,
As they beat the drum down Danforth Road on the twenty fourth of May,
Out to the country and back by Byng, again on Dominion Day.

Those were loyal times before the war for king and queen and all,
For more than a few, this love did cause, their ultimate downfall.
It did at Dieppe and D-day too like their seniors at the Somme,
They died for king and country; they did it for a song.

And soon they were forgotten, those who fought for king and crown,
Though those lucky to return had saved the country and the town.
They would walk again forever with their flags flying high,
Marching medals of the heroes that no one could deny.

Except the town of Scarborough was down on the drawing board,
And those fields and sheep and meadows didn't fit the grand accord.
No newcomers paid attention as the veterans vied for space,
And their parades of marching medals only had an old-time grace.

And Scarborough changed by day and night from a township to a city,
Old soldiers faded fast and few and no one had much pity.
And the immigrants came in wave after wave from places far and wide,
As the soldiers went to grave after grave with their flags and faded pride.

But still a few survive today and I'm sure they are not pleased.
'bout the changes to the town and how Scarborough had been squeezed,
From a township to a city where no one cared for esprit de corps,
So they amalgamated with Toronto and Scarborough was no more.

And culture clash and bureaucrat and ever changing rules,
Of mandarin and moguls and Tamils dressed in jewels,
While traffic roared and the buildings soared sometimes to sixty stories,
Where women wrapped in saris sashayed in all their glories.

They had lost the town without a fight, those men from long ago.
And everything was centralized; they said to save some dough,
But the authorities had lied again; it was all politically correct,
And no one marched, no flags did fly and no one did protest.

There are sometimes you still can hear it, the distant drone of pipes,
And men in kilts still carry on, just watched by boys on bikes.
They're just a faint reminder now of the many marching bands,
When those with flags and medals marched and Scarborough had some land.

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

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The Americans can make amendments to their Bill of Rights,
It seems to solve the problems of many political fights,
But Canadians have a problem in trying to change our Charter,
Written back around the time of President Jimmy Carter.

Too many provinces, people, groups and complications involved,
Too much finger pointing, accusations and matters unresolved,
Under the command of appointees politically correct,
Appointed senators or appointed judges have the same affect.

The Swiss have binding referendums, which we are denied,
Even Oregon has death with dignity, which we can’t abide,
Because our aristocrat appointees all want to stay and stay,
You can’t change anything, so you… just better go away.

June 28th, 2011

Monday, June 27, 2011

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POLYGAMY June 27th, 2011

Polygamy is banned by Canada’s Criminal Code law,
But nowadays it’s being questioned as if this is a legal flaw,
Our Supreme Court may change the rules because nobody else can,
Politicians in parliament are busy with the usual game plan.

I think polygamy should be allowed with certain conditions,
Laid down, not by Santa Clause judges but by politicians,
So that we as a country are governed by those we elect,
Not by politically correct judges that someone selects.

One wife should be assigned as the baby sitter for the others,
To be organized among themselves and the many mothers,
While they go to work like the working husband of the lot,
No welfare allowed but this may indeed be a subject too hot.

June 27th, 2011

Sunday, June 26, 2011

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Canadians were taught that with the Charter, there’s no need for change,
Therefore death with dignity can not ever be arranged,
And unlike the Swiss, we are not allowed binding referendums,
We can watch parliament on TV and watch some throw their tantrums.

Parliament, where death with dignity cannot be discussed,
And you can’t even see the empty seats or show any disgust,
You have to be politically correct and that’s what they like,
You can’t scream or shout or complain and you can’t go on strike.

The appointed Senate and appointed Supreme Court should change,
Maybe they should be elected in order to rearrange,
We need a gutsy politician to change the Charter once more,
We need death with dignity and binding referendums to roar.

June 26th, 2011

Saturday, June 25, 2011

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It seems we may indeed have open brothels in Toronto soon,
The Charter of Rights and a lady who wanted to be immune,
Went to the Ontario Supreme Court and won her case,
So an open Toronto brothel may no longer be a disgrace.

The religious types and Toronto politicians are confused,
While some of them I think are more likely very amused,
Can’t have a brothel next door to a politician though,
The bright lights and tourists might leave the street all aglow.

The powerful media moguls of course are not amused,
They know the religious activists, whose egos might be bruised,
We should make bylaws for where brothels should and should not be,
Maybe go to Amsterdam, look in windows and walk around and see.

June 25th, 2011

Friday, June 24, 2011

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The question is; whom do we appoint to the Supreme Court?
Because this court allowed abortion clinics to abort,
Kill boys and girls before they had a chance to be born,
And we look the other way as though this was illegal porn.

Because unlike the also appointed Senate, they rule this land,
With an iron fist and what they don’t like may be totally banned,
Like death with dignity as though they themselves will never die,
And no one, absolutely no one is allowed to ask them; why?

Somewhere hidden up in Ottawa dressed up like Santa Clause,
Ancient aristocrats never had death dealing power like jaws,
And they can’t be overruled because of Pierre Trudeau’s Charter,
While into a garbage bag goes the unborn boy or girl martyr.

June 24th, 2011

Thursday, June 23, 2011

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OTTAWA CHANGES June 23rd, 2011

If we scrapped the appointed Senate, would anyone know?
But their political appointees want to maintain the status quo,
They have good soft well paying jobs until they are nearly dead,
Or was that seventy five or eighty five -- no one really read.

To listen to their news, it might be the end of the world.
Nothing like this has happened before since the flag was unfurled,
God might come down from heaven or the devil come up from hell,
Whose doing this – the prime minister or some drug cartel?

Because those of us outside of Ottawa would hardly know,
Not much concerned with distant Ottawa government overflow,
So the provinces might get a kick at the cat and all that,
Because Ottawa expects that the provinces should go to bat.

June 23rd, 2011

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

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We need death with dignity regardless of our Supreme Court,
Isolated Santa Clauses tucked away in an Ottawa fort,
They allowed unborn babies to be aborted by the score,
But for Canadian adults death with dignity, they just shut the door.

If unborn babies can be killed without question; why not us?
Binding referendums could get assisted suicide without fuss,
That’s why they wont touch referendums with a ten-foot pole,
Democracy and Supreme Court agenda hidden with no control.

We are forbidden death with dignity under some pretence,
Isolated politicians and Santa Clauses make no sense,
They seem to think that miserable death will never come their way,
Like appointed Canadian Senators they may stay and stay.

June 22nd 2011

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

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A GIRL IN DERRY June 21st, 2011

A girl in Derry long ago said that I was full of lust,
She was probably pompously right as she left me in the dust,
Said she was going to join the convent the very next week,
I often wondered about her and if I had met a freak.

And if she’s in a convent, still alive, would she remember me?
A wandering Canadian sailor from far across the sea,
But that was very long ago, even long before the pill,
Before many lovely ladies went crazy but some don’t still.

Is there something I may have missed somewhere along the way?
Lots of things forgotten so I should have kept a dossier,
Or wrote a sexy novel about the people and events,
Could have been a best seller because of the contents.

June 21st, 2011

Monday, June 20, 2011

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Death with dignity or brothel prostitution cannot be arranged,
Our politicians, activists and judges don’t think this is strange,
Those binding referendums that Canadians are forbidden,
That secret subject behind closed doors is completely hidden.

Therefore in their typical way, everything will be delayed,
They don’t mind because it stops that immoral crusade,
And quietly delayed again and again until it disappears.
No death with dignity or prostitution and no fears.

They say that prostitution is okay but brothels forbidden,
They might continue the way they are now – illegal and hidden,
And Canadians can’t arrange to die no matter how sick,
Assisted suicide is illegal unless you are thick.

June 20th, 2011

Sunday, June 19, 2011

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A GIRL IN DERRY June 19th 2011

A girl in Derry long ago said that I was full of lust,
She was probably right as she left me in the dust,
Said she was going to join a convent the very next week,
I often wonder if that experience was completely unique.

And if perchance she’s still alive, would she remember me,
A Canadian sailor from across the Atlantic sea,
But that was very long ago, even long before the pill,
Before many lovely ladies went crazy but some don’t still.

Is there something I may have missed somewhere along the way?
Lots of things forgotten so I should have kept a dossier,
Or wrote a book about the many people and events,
Could have been a best seller because of the contents.

June 19th, 2011

Saturday, June 18, 2011

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NO NEED TO MOURNE June 18th, 2011

Canadian politicians have issues they tend to avoid,
Like a hole in the road at least a half a mile wide,
Binding referendums and death with dignity are only two,
Plus compulsory voting and abortions, long overdue.

They are having a debate about a debate any time or place,
On radio, on TV, on the Internet or in your face,
They want to be first in line to tell you what to do,
Touchy subjects, can’t say this, or mention anything overdue.

Was your grandson killed at the abortion clinic before he was born?
Was it all an official secret where no one needed to mourn?
Memories that never came or went thanks to the Supreme Court,
Dressed up in their Santa Clause suits in their Ottawa fort.

June 18th, 2011

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

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We need a constitutional committee to submit new stuff,
To change the flaws in the Charter though this could be mighty rough,
To get death with dignity and binding referendums soon,
And not be tied down in a politically correct commune.

We need politicians with guts to say they have had enough,
No more being party submissive – they have to get tough,
Proportional representation would do for a start,
Elected Supreme Court and Senators and no more bleeding hearts.

Where abortion clinics can be put to a national vote,
Not given to the Supreme Court and then put on remote,
We need some politician to come forward and talk about this,
Because this is our one chance to get changes like the Swiss.

June 15th, 2011

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

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We are all going to die whether we like it or not,
It will happen sooner or later even if you think you’re a big shot,
It can’t be organized or scheduled for this or that reason,
It’s against the law and considered to be next to treason.

The Swiss and Dutch have it figured out and have death with dignity,
But it’s not allowed in Canada – High Court activity.
Sue Rodriguez was refused though she had Lou Gehrig’s disease,
Canadian Supreme Court dressed in red, refused her please.

So we should amend our constitution like the Swiss and the Dutch,
Because under the present system our Supreme Court has too much,
If we had binding referendums we could get back in control,
Instead, nowadays many murderers seem to get parole.

June 14th, 2011

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Monday, June 13, 2011

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Voluntary suicide should be one of our Charter rights,
Especially for terminally ill patients -- soon to turn out their lights,
Euthanasia should be a legitimate medical option here,
For folks in terrible pain and sickness and soon to disappear.

Those opposed to euthanasia say euthanasia is weird,
They say that death is a natural process that should not be feared,
Most religions are a righteous preparation for a pious death,
And voluntary suicide might be a sin on your last breath.

They scream about Charter Rights and human rights in a big loud sigh,
Never mention that voluntary death might be a good “Good Bye.”
Therefore the Charter should be changed in order to put things right,
And Canadians could then rearrange their upcoming plight.

June 13th, 2011

Sunday, June 12, 2011

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Euthanasia advocates want dying made easy and legal,
Though religious advocates look on all this as sinful and evil,
We should not have to go to Switzerland to arrange to die,
When we have abortion clinics here and there and no one asks why.

Death on demand is frowned on except for unborn babies,
No one seems to question these abortion bound young pregnant ladies,
But euthanasia and death with dignity is just not allowed,
By Supreme Court judges dressed like a Santa-Clause crowd.

Doesn’t matter if you have a terrible terminal illness,
Soon to be cold dead in a coffin in complete stillness,
Sue Rodriguez had Lou Gehrig’s disease when she was told,
Though she too soon joined the painful dead long before she was old.

June 12th, 2011