'Twas the week before Christmas,
from the House floor,
MPs rewriting the verses of Clement Moore,
whose Night Before Christmas we all know so well,
yet spoofing it just right can be hard as hell.
When writing my version last year at this time,
it was hard to make AstraZeneca rhyme.
The task poets now face on the path we are on
is finding a word that rhymes with omicron.
In the year when the best gift under the tree
is likely to be booster dose number three,
it is hard to remember the joy of the season,
when nature and governments give us no reason.
The nation's debt load is now half a trillion,
but hope springs eternal so thanks a million.
To those who bring joy into all of our lives,
caregivers, friends, children, husbands and wives,
whether your home is Whoville, Perth or Timbuktu,
Merry Christmas to all, merry Christmas to you.