'Crusade'

Mr Holyoake's recent nation-wide trek so impressed National Party hacks that they hailed it as a "crusade." O.U.'s "Critic's reaction was:

For we are the way and I am the Light,
So take it from me for I'm always right.
This is my Crusade, my joy, my holy task,
I only hope no one will tear off the mask.

So think not at all while I give you the word.
It may seem strange, even absurd.
It may not be sense, it isn't rational,
But who cares—so long as it's National.

My words ring out clear, I never mumble.
The audience listens, quiet and humble.
They're very respectful—don't dance or jive,
Though the average age is but sixty-five.

Youth awake! Military training and even more.
We must prepare for the Third World War.
And when you are killed in the first blind rush—stand at ease!
You still have me and my fellow M.P.'s.

Your taxes I'll slash and your money return,
Import what you like, there's funds to burn.
And when they are burnt and there's nothing left,
Blame Nash—for this act of political theft.

There may be no Heaven or even a Hell,
But while you have me all yet may be well.
For I'm no mere persuasive pariah,
I'm St. Keith of Messissi—the master Messiah.

So bury me deep, but honour me high,
With statues and temples—pi in the sky,
And in simple gold letters, this message send,
Here lies Keith—the rich man's friend.

N.Z.U.P.C.—Critic.