The Twelve Days of Carbon Christmas

On the second day of Christmas my Julia said to me,
Bob Brown’s my mentor and he’s moved my partridge,
To a dark-Green, pear tree.

On the third day of Christmas my Julia said to me,
This is Rob Oakeshott a yapping,
For a bit of the partridge in the pear tree.

On the fourth day of Christmas my Julia said to me,
This is Tony Windsor a grubbing for a deal,
On a bigger partridge, and the whole damn pear tree.

On the fifth day of Christmas my Julia said to me,
This is Andrew Wilkie from Tasmania,
And he’ll only bet
On a partridge gambling in an apple tree.

On the sixth day of Christmas my Julia said to me,
This is Adam Bandt who desperately wants
A very gay partridge in a very pink pear tree.

On the seventh day of Christmas my Julia said to me,
This is Craig Thomson, who wants to do the expenses
For the partridge and the pear tree.

On the eighth day of Christmas my Julia said to me
Bob Brown’s-a-squawking for a Carbon Tax
On the partridge and the Green pear tree.

On the ninth day of Christmas my Julia said to me,
This is Brown-a-squawking,
Oakeshott-a-yapping,
Windsor-a-grubbing,
Bandt-a-fluffing,
Wilkie-a-gambling
On a Carbon Tax
For the partridge in a pear tree.

On the tenth day of Christmas my Julia said to me,
This is Tony Abbott, who keeps on carping,
About my silly promise, not to Carbon-Tax
The partridge in the pear tree.

On the eleventh day of Christmas my Julia said to me,
What with Brown-a-squawking,
Oakeschott all-a-yapping,
Windsor all-a-grubbing,
Bandt-all-a-fluffing,
Wilkie all-a-gambling,
Abbott all-a-carping,
And me all-a-fibbing,
About no Carbon Tax
On a partridge in a pear tree.

On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love said to me: