Political Pennant Pushers

Depending on your Province,
Or your father's kith and kin;
Depending on your state of grace,
Or church you worship in;
Depending on your brashness
And innate desire to brag,
Depends your choice of motif
For this country's future flag.

If father came from Brittany,
Your mother from Paris,
You will undoubtably demand
A silver fleur-de-lis:
But if your forebears came from Hants,
You'll naturally smack
At anyone who dares leave out
Old England's Union Jack.

It's quite amusing to conduct,
From midway on the perch,
A little bit of wholesome, healthy,
Staid and sane research,
To ascertain who are these folk
Who daily chew the rag,
On what and what should not be placed
Upon our country's flag!

It all boils down, as one might guess,
To Englishman and french;
these are the two who stir the stew
And raise the mighty stench;
But Indian and Eskimo,
Ukranian and Pole,
The German and Hungarian,
Don't ask to play a role.

They much prefer to stand aloof,
And watch the battle's course,
Along with Jew and Austrian,
With Finlander and Norse -
Those men who've seen opppression,
Concentration camps and death,
And happy are, 'neath any flag,
To taste of freedom's breath

It mattters little, Little men,
What bunting o'er us flies;
It matters most how we appear
Before downtrodden eyes;
We need no signet, Union Jack,
Or silver fleur-de-lis,
On any mast, if what we fly
Our brothers know as free!

So push your pennant, Pearson,
We'll fly it, come what may,
And sadly chant "O Canada,"
On this or any day;
But can our politicians find
Some new vent for their rage,
For, if deprived of flag debates,
How will they earn their wage?