Canada In Less Than A Nutshell

We're Canada: A Poem Lacking Metre and Otherwise Sense


We're Canada, we don't have any moon,
We spend our spare time keeping the stereo in tune!
Our loyalties can hardly be questioned,
To sum it up, we can't be burdened
With bothering to salute the flag.
(just don't say the Queen's a hag,
We'll drown you in beer cuz we're really mean,
Heck, we might even send you to the guillotine!)

We're Canada, and it's not really that cold,
We make fun of Americans, we're definitely that bold,
Who really cares, as long as the Oilers win?
Well, actually, that's only if you're in Edmonton...
Which really doesn't rhyme, but who cares, we're Canadian
And I can't think of anything that rhymes with that—um—ORANGE!
Have a snow float, it's not on me,
Oh, look, it's a pretty maple tree!

We're Canada, I'm sweating to death,
Because it's hot, even though I think 20's hot, and that's Celsius, you idiot, oh right, I need a rhyme to end this line and the only word I can think of at the moment is breath....
(gasp) I'm out of breath now.
20. That's, like, room temperature for you uncivilized folk who still use Fahrenheit, but how?
Can you understand it? It makes no sense!
Are Americans really that dense?
I mean, they think we live in igloos and eat seal blubber! That's just, like, WAY up North.
Here, it's warm—hither and go forth!

We're Canada—I don't care if this poem has really lost its purpose
I mean, don't get me started on what people think of Australia! Porpoise!
That's a kind of whale, or something, but I needed a rhyme. No more run-on sentences for me!
Nah, I really don't write poems much. What do you expect? Nope, I won't flee
And abandon this pitiful work of literature. What do you expect from someone born in a land
Where all cereal boxes have two languages on them? A poem angsting about sand?
That actually has a metre?
Metre! Hah!  Now I should go on about Canadian spelling, honor vs honour and all, but maybe I'll go on instead about a praetor.

I'll break my title rhthym, too! A praetor was an annually elected magistrate from the ancient Roman Republic.
Yes, I'm sure you really needed to know that. (I'll never be able to show my face again in public)
Canada doesn't have a Republic. We have a Democracy. That means we elect people who dictate over us.|
Well, now THAT'S definitely a plus.
We get to VOTE on who decides who shall take the road. Or whatever.
Unless you're underage, of course, or stupid or the government doesn't like you, however...
Women can vote! We're actually not that primitive! Really, we're not.
Some of the girls are actually pretty hot...

We're Canada, some of the girl's are desperate to meet American guys!
I don't see what they see in them, personally. But maybe it's wise.
You know, spread the gene pool around a little bit?
Should get married in Tibet.
No one could be related to me THERE, after all...
I dunno. Would they be too tall?
Oh, yeah, I'm off topic again... hey, I'm cute, any American guys interested? ; )
Blast! Nothing rhymes with ; )... grr... bracket... yes... tax bracket.

We're still Canada, and you probably learned nothing from this poem.
That's okay. Now you should all go home.
Stop thinking about invading our homeland, we're really aliens come to steal your brains.
Oh, yes, that's right. In Saskatchewan, they grow all these grains?
And sell them cross-country and stuff? Well, they're really mind-control devices. Grain and potatoes.
And gas prices. Those bloody gas prices. I throw rotten tomatoes!
But, I'll do that after I finish taking over the world. We're going to beam you all into the mother ship,
Then fly back to our homeplanet! And brainwash you to become a redneck like me! You'll FLIP!

Oh, yes, baby, we're Canadian, and aliens, we're going to steal your braaaaaains.
No, not zombies. Wait, now I'm repeating rhymes, need something new... gain?
Sure. YOU guys gain. Sucking all our money by claiming our dollar's worth less...
But let me tell you something, Canada's the BEST.
Like, we have health care. And stuff. So THERE.
And we have space! No cramped cities—okay, there's a FEW over here—
Shut up. I'm busy trying to take over your mind, can't you stop thinking flame-worth thoughts?
And there's nothing really that rhymes with THAT either... gah... stop writing this, I ought.

We're Canada—hey, wait—are you a hot American guy? Can I have your phone number?!