Good Lord Duffy

Gormanesque...

Absentee senator we are your squatters
You hold the title, we hunt the otters
You flap your tongue
We kiss your bum

Harper's lieutenant, you hold the pennant
Offend the locals without being repentant

Your humour is rough, chewy and tough
Pack your bag! but you travel so light.
Your never around, we don't see you enough
Are you afraid you might not get a bite?

If you ever fly to PEI, between courses at Toronto's restaurants
Our salt cod dinners will leave you thinner
To look in the eye of the ghost of a lie (your old haunts)
Your elected by a real winner.

Fat greasy Duffy your dirty & stuffy, a bagman for the Tory's
Your salty tongue from that higher rung tips our dories.
We want you out by the shortest route, but how do you rustle a bluff
Your not even here, you fat stout queer, you store bought piece of fluff.