Shall I compare thee to Alfred Sant?
Though art more ginger and more cuddly:
Rough Mike did shake when you dared fly in Schultz,
But the summer campaign’s too short for a wobbly;
Sometimes too hot do our hopeful eyes shine,
When your gold complexion graces our screens;
You promise to win and bring Divorce Divine,
To change nature’s course and do more than the greens.
But don’t let thy eternal promises fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair hair your predecessor wish’st for,
Nor let George blossom and leave you in his shade,
When you go to Brussels while his tree of delegates grow’st.
As long as you can smile and show your carrot-top for all to see,
Say so long to Sant, and save us from Goooonzi.
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