And so enters Stalin to be the voice of reason in our troubled land.
The delayed and timely entrance at the eleventh hour
to calm we children of the night.
(all eyes on the vacant seat, and just as the cameras are fading to black)
Enter : our Stalin.
The women put back on their shoes. The Honourable men, fix their tie,
The young doctor stops her pout.
Tweets tweet.
MNI comes alive.
"He's come! Our redeemer liveth."
And so enters our Stalin. Descending from clouds
to calm the tailfeathers of hateful hens.
"Ladies please!"
and
"Boys behave! Don't forget, we all family here, and we probably troubled the same women, one time or another. Anyway, we not here to pound melee!
Let's exchange Bible verse instead."
My island of Preachers, Parsons and Priest.
Where pensioned Parliamentarians will always eat:
well.
And what does our Stalin know that we don't?
That no one wants to really assume the burden of the Leader
just the noise of power.
What these masqueraders want instead is just to squeeze the Premier
make him bow
and say: "Bwoy listen, me father to you, remember!"
Make him give concession without consequence.
"We want you fix everything but no taxes, hear me?"
"Universal health-care so that man can fall from roof top and flyout,
no charge"
"Build up Montserrat but no bother ask me no lawyer question 'bout no taxes!"
"Build up Montserrat but no trouble me bank account!"
Keep the Indian shopkeepers happy millionaires.
Live here, but invest there!
And please:
"Don't tax Eddy's sand
or Roy Lee's land.
or mess with Mr. Wall at all."
And so what is it that our Stalin knows?
That the last thing people really want:
Is Change
They will ever settle:
for
Exchange.
And so, enter our Stalin
To tell them "No!"
Not quite yet
The Kingdom come!