‘Twas four days before Christmas, and out on the Prairies
The grain farmers worried, their minds full of queries.
Their stockings were hung by their chimneys with care
In hopes that a miracle soon would be there.
The wheat board was snuggled quite deep in its bed
With monopoly visions alive in its head.
Measner and Ritter had donned their board caps
But Strahl had directed them to shut their yaps.
Well down in the East there had been such a clatter
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And farmers, they knew all about the board matter.
Away to their pencils and papers they flew
Wrote letters and postcards to tell of their view.
“We want choice,” wrote some, in their letters quite clearly
But others said they held monopolies dearly.
The wheat board electors, their ballots had cast
Results were conclusive and Strahl was aghast.
On Korneychuk! On Nicholson! On Oberg and Hill!
On Vos! Who has wishes of some to fulfil.
To 423 Main they flew like a flash
Tore open the boardroom and threw up en masse.
In the meantime, old Sask Pool made AU an offer
And AU rejected the deal that it proffered.
Besides that, there was hope for profits this yule.
The great hope of farmers is called biofuel.
And more rapid than eagles, the proposals flew
For ethanol plants and biodiesel too.
The WTO talks ran out of collaterals
Leaving nothing but prospects of clever bilaterals.
The cowboys out West beat the dreaded anthrax
Even though it had dealt out its fair share of whacks
They looked with some hope at the laws in the States
And knew old cows would soon flow, the market awaits.
And that’s how things shaped up for ag in 06.
Federal Tories still planning an industry fix.
The farmers observed things, the future looked bright
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.
