An ode to the Portuguese most "picturesque" politician:

The Song of Alberto João Jardin

My resignation is quite out of the question

As my shopping is now underway:

I need new calças for next year’s celebration

(For which you Continentals shall pay!)

My cronies and I are so happy

To wear funny pants and beat drums

Our island economy wouldn’t be so crappy

If we were sober enough to find our thumbs.

But you see, Mardi gras is our reason for living

I fear this you can’t understand . . .

I call ‘work’ what you call ‘dancing’

Even as I ‘work’ with two breasts in one hand.

“But the subsidies!” you cry and you moan,

Beating your chests in the streets,

“Your extravagance makes our budget groan,

Your Mardi gras, our fair Portugal depletes!”

My friends, you suffer from vision—

That is, a true lack thereof

These pants can’t be a source of division

Just ask the tourists, they know whereof

They speak (with tears filling their eyes):

“Alberto Jardim, what an outrageous bash!

If you got any more chicks in bikinis

This island may develop a rash!”

So you see, I’m no rascal, no Caligula.

You Continentals have little cause for objection

I throw the best party on the Iberian Peninsula!

(And my resignation is quite out of the question)!

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