The red face of Chris keeps on glowing
While he’s in the seats of unknowing.
It begs for the asking,
“That grimace is masking
If you are now coming or going”
Statement of Belief
Collected Things
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Screams from the Stalls
bog roll
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Ærchies Archive - Digital Detritus 
Vanishing into his own puerility one hopes!
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Fundamental little fellow, isn’t he? 😉
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You know how they are always scraping the bottom of the barrel? I think the barrel is made out of pyne.
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His screeching leaves us wincing
At dispatch-box always `mincing`
Our dear Mr-Poodle
Won`t use his noodle
For policy`s that are convincing
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Chris Pyne was losing his cool
When Emma was quizzing the fool
She made the little worm
Writhe and squirm
Which put a sad end to his drool.
The Liberals Christopher Pyne
Makes whinging his usual line
He learned that bad habit
From his boss Mr Abbott
And now he’s The Master of Whine
Chris Pyne often loses his cool
Spits the dummy and screams like a fool
Goes red in the face
So stand back a pace
Lest he explodes and your covered in drool.
When Chris Pyne goes red in the face
Looking like he’s not long for this place
Reminds one of a cane toad
About to explode
Leaving Lib shit all over the place.
Can’t be sure Chris Pyne won’t implode
When face is puffed up like a toad
Or maybe much worse
Could be the reverse
Like a Time Bomb he could explode.
Chris Pyne’s mad eyes and his drool
Starts one to thinking the fool’s
Gonna go round the twist
And start biting his fist
As he probably did when at Pre School.
Pyne gets that mad look in his eyes
And blood pressure starts in to rise
When he’s right in the middle
Of insane tarradiddle
And telling his bald faced lies.
Pyne who must have his say
In his own hysterical way
Shows he’s full of conceit
And while mouthing deceit
Grows more swollen headed each day.
Chris Pyne the egotistical rat
Acts like a spoiled child brat
Thinks he’s being oratorical
But with lies diabolical
All the bullshit he spouts falls flat.
It’s about time Christopher Pyne
When spouting his bullshit line
Woke up that most folk
Think that he’s a big joke
With his incessant whinging and whine
So glad that Christopher Pyne’s
Name rhymes so well with whine
Else I might get stuck
Writing verse re this Schmuck
And the bullshit that’s his only line.
You can always rely on Pyne
Who makes whinging his usual line
To jump into the fray
With nought value to say
In his girlie effeminate whine
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