An Ode to .. Tory Whanau

Brideshead Rebudgeted
The House of Tory had fallen
On hard times.
Returning after many years
To the Grand Estate,
I strolled in once lush Courtney Meadows,
now tangled with stringy weeds and thickets.
The Lambton Wing had fallen into disrepair.
Dust collected on the chandeliers.
Laughter once rose from these tables
Of the Banquet Hall,
And goblets clinked with merry effect.
Now moth eaten curtains are drawn
On gloomy windows
As all stay in and nibble on crusts.
The imposing driveway is empty,
The Rolls Royce Silver Wraith sold
On Trade Me to the highest bidder.
Lost! Lost! The great fortunes
Of the Lotto Powerball years scattered
Like the sands of the desert.
Inflation adjusted Council salaries
That once frequented designer boutiques
Are crushed into a handful of dust
By the leaden mortgages of vile Australian banks.
There, a forlorn silhouette in the window,
Stands Her Excellency the Mayoress,
Counting her last copper kopecks,
To place one at a time in the gas meter
Of the mouldering mansion
Of the once great House of Tory.