A long poem about Jack Layton (as promised)

The Cat in the cradle spit out the silver spoon,
And now we have a man who is over the moon

100 more seats than I think they deserved
He musters and blusters, and is hardly reserved

The picked over the corpse of nationalistic pride
And have since adopted a position which is easy to deride


He is a clever man, of this there is no doubt
Too bad his success has reduced his actual clout

Government in waiting, what a horrible joke
If he gets any closer, our country will be broke


Despite this sad truth, his genius is clear
By the end of 2012, his entire caucus will be old enough to drink beer

Populist plans to save Canadians from themselves
Proving the key is to elect Santa, not his elves


Ask all you want, the response will be plain
You better pull yourself up, or feel electoral pain

If you blow this one chance, your party is screwed
Quebec as a mistress, can be of foul mood


Betray the trust that she gave to you my friend
May see the country we live in soon end.

Opponents of Canada are sitting in wait,
Hoping you flounder, listing at the gate


I hope you succeed, you speak to their issues
And do not succumb to a flurry of miscues

Four years from now, I hope I am wrong
And then, only then, will I rewrite this song