A man under the pseudonym Tyronehster has written what must surely be the most controversial (and funny) poem/song of the year. And he was cool enough to let me re-post it here.

I try keep my focus on the DA’s corruption in Knysna but i’m all too aware of the corruption of the ANC nationwide. There’s simply too many bad things happening in our country for me to attempt to cover it all…but it’s weekend so let’s make serious fun of Jacob Zuma and some of the politicians destroying our beautiful South Africa…because sometimes we have to laugh about bad things!

Come listen my friends I’ve a true tale to tell
of a night at the Zumas when it all went to hell
The Mercs had come in and the tuck shop ran out
of Walker Blue Label and Castle Milk Stout

The President shouted now what shall we drink?
So he offered them puza, and said with a wink
We can offer you gin, but you say it’s too white,
I can offer you beer, but it’s all Castle Lite.

(Chorus)
Oh we’ll never, no never, no never again,
if we live to a hundred or a hundred and ten
Not ever rely on the tuck shop for booze
because it seems all my wives do is lay ‘round and snooze

The Prez he was singing his favourite tune
that said bring my machine gun and made his wives swoon
And soon they were running to scare up some booze
and a convoy with blue lights went out on a cruise

To scare up the nearest shebeen they could find,
to releasing his stock of most every kind,
of whisky and brandy, no matter the label
and made their way back soon they were able.

(Chorus)
Oh we’ll never, no never, no never again,
if we live to a hundred or a hundred and ten
Not ever rely on the tuck shop for booze
because it seems all my wives do is lay ‘round and snooze

The booze it was flowing and the night was still young
when one of the wives to the bar top was flung
They all gave applause and with no sense of guilt,
the ANC know how these women are built

The President, bless him, stepped up for a drink
and he’s ripe for a party, as many may think
He’s ridden more wives than old Pravin can count
and there never was one that the Prez couldn’t mount

(Chorus)
Oh we’ll never, no never, no never again,
if we live to a hundred or a hundred and ten
Not ever rely on the tuck shop for booze
because it seems all my wives do is lay ‘round and snooze

Nkandla was filled with the black, green and yellow
of the ANC faithful beginning to mellow
Worth a year’s worth of wages for any one man,
they drank of the booze and they thought up a plan

The ANC faithful were hatching a plot
to charge tax for the air, it need not be a lot
The people would grumble and take to the streets
and protest and burn tires, the DA would Tweet

(Chorus)
Oh we’ll never, no never, no never again,
if we live to a hundred or a hundred and ten
Not ever rely on the tuck shop for booze
because it seems all my wives do is lay ‘round and snooze

Nkandla was cheering with stomping of feet
and the wives of the President danced in the street
They danced and they trilled and they gave a loud cheer
for this husband of theirs they thought awfully dear

Now Jacob we know as an amiable man
and Blade Nzimande passed out on the can
for the booze that they served on that ill-fated night
took the legs from the ANC faithful alright

For the Blue Label Whisky mixed with skokiaan
and the farts it engendered would level a barn
Nkandla was filled with near comatose folk
and if Zuma could see it, he’d sure have a stroke

So the moral dear friends, can be quite clearly seen
if you run out of booze, don’t run to the shebeen

(Chorus)
Oh we’ll never, no never, no never again,
if we live to a hundred or a hundred and ten
Not ever rely on the tuck shop for booze
because it seems all my wives do is lay ‘round and snooze