For the lucky federal M.P.
He can afford to chill out a while
He get’s his coffee for free
He loiters round for hours on end
As the humble waiter toils
Knowing he can safely depend
On tasty coffee bean spoils
He flies a la carte in a chartered plane
And often dines at the Ritz
What can a coffee bean hope to gain
From life out in the pits?
Beans are just numbers to add and subtract
When all the votes are counted
Always there to trample the welcome mat
Or have their objections mounted
What a trial they are to the wealthy few
Better keep them out of sight
Too many joining the lengthy queue
The coffers are sealed up tight
But the M.P. goes on his merry way
With his coffee freshly brewed
He mutters along with nothing to say
While humble beans get screwed.