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Twas the Night Before Christmas: Mountie Edition

Dec 23

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through HQ
Nothing has changed, especially for you.
The constables still answer to those who don’t care
But hope that someday their grievances will air.

The Whiteshirts were nestled all snug in their beds
While delusions of grandeur danced in their heads.
And Harper in his office, Mackay in his lap
Create more dysfunction and add to this crap.

Back at detachment there’s now union chatter
But the Whiteshirts are listening so everyone scatter.
Away on patrol is where everyone goes,
Except for the brain-washed who love to brown nose

We don’t have back-up and the radio’s broken
But it’s better than hearing what Whiteshirts have spoken.
Home after working extra hours for free,
And more of the same from Bob on TV.

It’s the fault of all others. is all Bob can say
If you give him more power, he can wish it away.
From reporters to members Bob lays all the blame
Bob’s speaking again, to all he proclaims.

“On detachments and sections and stenos and civilians.
On constables and corporals and especially the victims!
From the lowliest rank to below the Whitewall
You’re ruining my dream! Go away with you all!”

Bob likes to bluster says,”all hands on deck!”
This from a guy who’s not stuck out his neck.
When Bob needed back-up, it was there no delay,
12 cops and a cameraman (it was Bob’s wedding day).

25 years and Bob climbed to the top,
but Bob is a Whiteshirt Bob is no cop.
He talks about change then threatens his wrath,
but what do you expect from this sad psychopath?

Again with more games, Bob continues to play
He’ll insult and attack but won’t enter the fray
Safe and protected by the powers that be
Bob’s smug and assured but we’re starting to see.

A culture that’s over and Whiteshirts afraid,
cops that won’t drink Royal Red kool-aid.
Bob calls it “crisis” but we call it due,
Payback’s a bitch Bob and it’s time to get you.

So enough is enough that’s why we’re here
tired of dysfunction and all the wrong fear.
Time to work to make the wrong things right
So to all that’s here, let’s start the good fight.


From → Bob Paulson

  1. Anonymous permalink


    Just love this time of year. The author of this poem deserves it to be published.

    Merry Christmas

  2. DJ Motorcop permalink

    Unionization and collective bargaining and clearly defined working conditions scare the living shit out of the upper echelon. No dictator wants to give up absolute power, …….

  3. Buck permalink

    A Big ass lump of coal for the Charlatan Commissioner, his SEC & every federal government lackey (yes that includes his nibs and his PMO office) for the ongoing & vigorous lack of effort on the Corrupt RCMP culture. I think the crime linkages would blot out the sun if they were to see the light of day.

  4. Anonymous permalink

    The good fight’s already started, time for more to wade in.

  5. Anonymous permalink

    Unfortunately the rest of us reside on the “Island of ODS Misfit Toys” from Bob’s perspective. I was busy chipping the ice away with my pick-axe to get myself, Rudolph, and Hermey the Elf, cut away on a small ice block to escape the abominable white-shirt Bob-Yeti, and float away to the island of ods misfit toys. The welcoming party includes: Charlie-in-the-box, cowboy-on-an-ostrich, and soldiers who march-out-of-sync. We’re going to sit it out on the island until something changes in the force, but until then, it looks like Yukon Cornelius will have to continue twirling his pick-axe in the air and lick the ends for taste.

    On another note, this poem does deserve publicity as it’s well put together. Possibly a Burl Ives inspired rendition of the farce? :0 Kidding of course.


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