A poem to the Editor

Sue, considering how often this game has been played, I don't want to
believe that there is anyone remaining in Newfoundland so naive as to take
this touted "Comprehensive Consultation Process", seriously, or not to be
able to see what is its real purpose.

Lloyd C.

THE OUTPORT BURIAL.
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The midnight bell has finally tolled,
Pause for a moment and behold,
As our premier dons his pontiff frock,
Befitting his adoring flock.

Before him kneels his acolytes;
Tom, Kathy D, and the other mites,
Submissive, as is rightly due,
Of those amongst his chosen few.

To validate this priestly rite,
It was imperative to invite,
Loyola to carry the pastoral staff:
A NAFO flag on a fishing-punt gaff.

Already a motif has been designed,
No detail missing the master's mind:
A murdered plant , most apropos,
For the pestering old ways that have to go.

With eyes uplifted, in solemn pose,
Hands wringing - the time had come to disclose,
Their mission revealed at the god's behest:
Time the in-shore fishery were put to rest.

And thus those corporate gods have deemed,
A burial conference will be convened,
A comprehensive one- on less,
To inter at last this pitiful mess.

Tomorrow they'll head for the outport coves,
Where the meek will assemble, and as behooves,
Those not entitled to have any say,
They'll come and listen and homage pay
To the mighty one whom all extol,
Rising higher with ever poll.
How could such a one be wrong,
They so weak and he so strong.

Could be that what he's saying is true,
The fishery is best in the hands of a few;
That the future lies not with their honest toil,
But with the blessed off-shore oil.

For God's sake people , why so blind,
That you can't see what they have in mind.
No intent of theirs that your ways survive,
They are coming to bury that alive.