Madam Speaker, my dear mother was recently going through some old papers and found a poem from the late 1970s she had saved all these years. In those days, we had former prime minister Pierre Trudeau. I was shocked at the similarities between then and now. Here is the poem:
The Prime Minister is my shepherd, I shall not work.
He maketh me to lie down on park benches;
He leadeth me beside still factories;
He restoreth my faith in the Conservatives;
He guideth me in paths of unemployment.
Yea though I walk through the valley of soup kitchens, I shall still be hungry,
For they are against me.
They anointed my income with taxes;
My expenses runneth over my salary.
Surely poverty and hard living shall follow me all the days of this Liberal administration,
and I shall live in a rented house forever!
After 45 years, nothing has changed. His son, our current Prime Minister, has dragged Canada into an even worse mess than his father did. Thankfully, there will be, once again, a new Conservative government to the rescue to fix everything the Liberals have broken. Let us bring it home.