It’s not because we’re clever,
It’s not because we’re bright,
The talks may seem to take forever,
And they might.
It’s not that we’re distracted,
It’s not because we ramble:
So yes, it’s longer than expected,
And a shambles.
Some say that we are cunning,
Some think we have a scheme,
Progress may be less than stunning –
But we dream.
We think we’re Titan’s creatures,
From the best of Saturn’s moons:
That is why our thought and speech is
And the fact is, we are Tory,
With gristle in the skull:
We can cause a small furore,
Or a lull.
Next week we’ll eye the others,
Next week we’ll suck our pen:
And then, my very dear Carruthers,
We’ll start again.
Near Saturn we were simple,
Our mental doors ajar,
Our brains each smaller than a pimple.
They still are.