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Poem to Parnell: 'Ode to Sean and his Meddling Minions'

Bob Andrews
Aaron Jansen illustration

Editor's note: In the United States, April has been designated National Poetry Month. Coincidentally or not, in the state of Alaska, April customarily contains the final days of the Alaska Legislature's regular session.

"An Ode to Sean and his Meddling Minions"

Strange things are done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold
But stranger yet are the new disloyal,
Those greedy folks who slog for oil

Now Sean Parnell, elected chief
Of far off Alaska land
Not a leader, but rather a thief
Planned a heist, oh ever so grand.

While picked to protect the electorate
Sean proved to be a pawn
He swore his fealty to Capitol Hill
Then crafted the Senate oil bill.

His buddies in the big oil nest
Swore Sean was one who knew the best
And proving judgment that was lax,
He proceeded to slash the oil tax

He said the Big Three made billions
And so it seemed unfair --
They really deserved gazillions
Alaskans stood not a prayer.

So now it was time for the Senate to rule,
A group with corruption fertile.
A couple of hags and some scalawags
Their ethics make good milk curdle.

The Senate, they decided, by the closest of votes
To give the oil dudes mega bucks.
Forget the people of the state
Yes, these guys really suck.

The oil guys gathered to jump with glee
And count their pirated cash
Then complained to Sean the Pawn,
“We need MORE for our stash.”

So as Alaskans cut funds to schools
And roads and health and such.
The oil guys just grin and say,
“We have the Midas Touch.”

The moral of this story shows
With a shyster in the penthouse,
It really is just like leaving
The fox to guard the hen house.

Election day will come again,
A day for which we wait
We’ll toss these cons out on their ears,
Their bluster we’ll deflate.

Remember Micciche and old Pete Kelly
Huggins, Bishop, and Coghill so smelly.
Then Dunleavy, Giessel and McGuire
Fairclough, Dyson, and last, old Meyer.

Unless we wish to break the bank,
These highwaymen must walk the plank
Remember these folks who steal your gold
And toss them out into the cold.

Strange things are done in the Midnight Sun
By these gangsters after oil.
Let's boot them out, one by one,
Their nefarious plans we must spoil.

Bob Andrews is a long-time Alaskan and retired school teacher. Upon retirement, he raced sled dogs for 5 years in the Yukon and farmed in Haines for 15 years. He and his wife currently live on Prince of Wales Island and enjoy a semi-remote, subsistence lifestyle. He follows Alaska news and politics with great concern for the state of affairs the next generations will inherit.

The views expressed here are the writer's own and are not necessarily endorsed by Alaska Dispatch, which welcomes a broad range of viewpoints. To submit a piece for consideration, e-mail commentary(at)alaskadispatch.com.