I can trace his decline to the time

of the General Election -

when the Greens won a seat

what he'd eat became the big question. 

 

He'd maintained climate change

were nothing so strange:

just sunspots and cycles and stuff,

and he'd read in The Star

it weren't caused by his car

and that were sufficient enough.

 

But now Greens had come first

in a city, what's worse,

full of lefties and lezzies and poofs,

and that wouldn't be all

for they'd set out their stall

to recite inconvenient truths.

 

A few days after vote

we sat down to a roast -

he were all out of sorts and on edge.

He prodded and poked,

then nodded and spoke

"I refuse to eat any more veg!"

 

Our mother said "Dad?"

and our father said "Lad,

what will you come up with next?

You must eat your greens,

your lentils and beans!

What is it that has you so vexed?"

 

He unfolded his fears

about cauliflower ears

and potatoes whose eyes

served as Green Party spies,

how they'd made a compact

with devils on horseback

armed with broccoli spears.

Our Mam burst into tears.

 

Since then just meat and fish

were allowed on his dish,

cheese and eggs, the occasional sweet.

But you can't lose your roots,

an asparagus shoots.....

and the Green Party take one more seat.