22/01/2026
The Ballad of the Two Chrises
Chris Hipkins stood on the hustings one day,
With a tie neatly pressed and a hopeful display.
He promised, he planned, he nodded a lot,
Explained things carefully… voters said, “Right… but what?”
Along came Luxon with a CEO grin,
Talking balance sheets, boots, and “let’s get stuck in.”
He said, “I’ll run this place just like a firm,”
And swing voters murmured, “Well, that sounds… firm.”
Hipkins spoke kindly, earnest and calm,
Like a substitute teacher restoring some harm.
But the crowd checked their watches, shuffled their feet,
And wondered if change might be slightly more neat.
The Greens popped up next with a very loud cheer,
On bikes made of bamboo, powered by fear.
They hugged a few trees, then hugged each other,
And somehow hugged taxes like no one’s mother.
They shouted, “The future is vivid and green!”
While losing three seats in the places between.
Their policies sparkled, idealistic and pure,
But voters said, “Nice… just not totally sure.”
Election night came with a count and a sigh,
Hipkins blinked twice and adjusted his tie.
Luxon smiled calmly, shook hands with a nod,
Like, “Yes, this was forecast… the spreadsheets said odds.”
The Greens held a meeting, organic and late,
Debating emissions… and also their fate.
Someone suggested a protest at dawn,
But most of them Googled “what went wrong?”
So here’s to democracy, messy and grand,
With leaders named Chris on both sides of the land.
One packed up the lectern, one moved to the Beehive,
And politics rolled on—confused, but alive.