Mr. Speaker,
'Twas the night before Christmas and all of Sundre was sleeping, Safe in the knowledge Reform's watch I was keeping. Me and my stetson and Art in the night, Prepared our Sea King for a long winter's flight.
We tightened the rotors and filled it with gas, Praying we will make it to see Preston at last. The copter it shook and landed with a splatter, On 24 Sussex, hey Art, grab the ladder.
We ran from the copter to the back of the house, Past the guards and the sensors, quiet as a mouse. The PM appeared, mad as a hatter, Sculptures in hand, poised like a batter.
Myron and Art, he cried with delight, Come in, come in, come in from the night. Of course you know Herb and Sheila and Paul, We're writing a new red book, it's due out next fall.
Our ideas are vague, disjointed and few, Will you call Preston, he'll know what to do. Do you think this is Christmas, Art said with a smile, While off in the corner, I started to dial.
Preston, it's Myron, I'm with the PM, He's turning Reform, Herb, lend me a pen. Just as he signed Paul started to shout, How much will this cost, our books are in doubt.
Our country's at stake, Reform is the answer If you don't like our beef, try eating Prancer.