In this season of joy, with the red and the green.
Retirees dreaming all snug in their beds
While COLAs and supplements danced in their heads.
From the soundest of sleeps, I awoke with a start—
And there on the lawn was a Carabao cart!
The driver, relaxed, seemed just out for a stroll,
While his team strained and struggled to make the thing roll.
The cart was a beauty; all Christmassy green--
Lots of whistles and bells like some jeepneys I’ve seen.
With a CALVOTENORIO banner of blue
And a sign that read: REFUNDS! Don't call – we’ll call you!
Those fifteen strange critters, some thin and some stout,
All pushing and pulling, and milling about.
The foulest of language! Such naked aggression!
One might almost think it’s a lawmaking session!
That curious gaggle just boggled my mind—
The strangest assortment one’s likely to find.
They were dressed all in T-shirts, and shoes with no socks,
And they chewed on some nuts, and spit red on the rocks.
All the T-shirts had slogans and photos and such
And I knew it was better to look, but not touch
As they mumbled and grumbled and strained at the leads,
While they plotted together to do evil deeds.
The driver was sturdy and mostly unclad—
Just a loincloth concealing whatever he had.
He stretched, and he yawned, and he glared at his team.
They were not on the fondest of terms it would seem.
He swiftly dismounted, and reached in the back,
And he struggled and dragged out a huge, empty sack.
I knew in a moment “He’s not here for fun!
He wants what I have, and it’s too late to run”!
His manner was feral; his movements were brisk--
I knew without doubt all my goods were at risk.
I cowered and quivered, as still as a mouse
While he quickly took stock of the things in my house.
He said “Don’t be frightened! No cause for alarm!
I’m only here helping the people of Guam!
My team’s shaping up; they’re a good looking crew—
A forest of deadwood to carry us through.
Ray’s making a list and he’s checking it twice
He’ll be letting me know if you’re naughty or nice.
I need a donation from each of you here,
So please hand it over – you’ve nothing to fear!”
Then he leaped back aboard, and unlimbered his whip,
And the team shambled off at an unsteady clip.
“On B.J.! On Judi and Judi and Frank!
On Ben, Tom and Rory! – next stop is the bank!
We’ll borrow a billion to make us look fine
So descendants may suffer for years down the line
As they repay the loans for the schemes that will buy
All the votes that we need for our “Pie in the Sky”.
We’ll promise the moon; or the sun; or what works
So that we’re in control, and we’ll cash in the perks
That we steal fair and square with the help of our friends
‘Cause we have no concern for the means—just the ends!”
So saying, he galloped his team ‘round the back,
Ever looking I’m sure for more loot for his sack.
And I heard him exclaim, as they lurched out of sight—
“Get your dagans in gear! This’ll be a long night!”