Lord Emer tiptoed from his flock,
Took a right on that furtive jaywalk,
And his skilled handiwork
Earns the pinnacle perk:
He is Parliament’s Prime Laughingstock.

I’ll be safe from the press in these walls, I’ll stay behind thick protocols, But that crowd’s still outside And how long can I hide, And Harper won’t answer my calls.

He was bright, now he’s darkly absurd,
He was prized, now he caricatured,
It’s not on your shoe, Em,
The smell comes from you, Em.
Your word is your word is your word.

Did he know that the path that he chose
Deadended with jeers not bravos?
He’s come to a halt
Through a character fault
In an office where nobody goes.