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It was just the other night,
In a foggy, hazy dream,
Joe Smallwood appeared and said,
Things just aren't as they seem;
The fish is gone the flour is high,
And Granny Snooks, she must have cried,
The arse is out, the cod are gone,
But Joey's words still linger on.
Like ya would !
Well then, next upon the scene,
Now, buddy lets out roars,
I'm the one no one remembers,
But my name tag says Frank Moores;
Now, just like my term in office,
I have nothing good to add,
So remember what Joey told you,
And know that you'd been had.
Like ya would !
The door it swings wide open,
And his nibs is right on cue,
It's Brian Peckford walking,
In a velvet leisure suit;
Now, don't listen to these other b'ys,
They're plainly mad you see,
If Newfoundland is getting you down,
Just move on out to BC.
Like ya would !
Well the premiers kept on at it,
As this song, it plainly tells,
But you ain't seen nothing till you've seen the feuhrer,
The honourable Clyde Wells;
Now, don't listen to those other b'ys,
Compared to them, I'm God,
Now, pardon me, I'm off to Ches's,
For chips and Russian cod.
Like ya would !
So here ends the story,
Of my paranormal dream,
Of Joey, Frank, Brian and Clyde,
Our Newfoundland dream team;
So, in our next election,
You must carefully take note,
Do nothing, sit home, read a book, or get loaded,
But don't even bother to vote.
Like ya would !
