[Mr. Joseph Cook is the most persistent interjector and Mr. William Kelly asks the greatest number of unimportant questions in the Federal House of Representatives.]

Last night I had a horrid dream,
   A nightmare, I should say,
I writhed in pain, till with a scream,
   I woke to find it day.

Nay, ask me not! 'Twas terrible!
   See how I tremble yet,
Behold my haggard countenance!
   Ah, would I could forget.

I dreamed I was a Government,
   (Mark you, my harried looks!)
And all the members opposite
   Were Kellys and Joe Cooks.

I had not one supporter,
   No member sat with me,
I had no whit of power, but all
   Responsibility.

Upon the Opposition right,
   A hundred Kellys sat,
Upon the left some ninety Cooks
   Or maybe, more than that.

I know not when it was, nor where,
   Nor why I was elected,
But when I tried to speak, a Cook
   Got up and interjected.

And every time a Cook sat down
   A Willie Kelly rose,
Arrayed in most offensively
   Correct and pretty clothes.

He'd ask me silly questions, in
   A most annoying voice,
And I could not reply to them,
   Because I had no choice.

For if perchance I answered "Yes,"
   The Speaker's rage would border 
On frenzy.  If I answered "No,"
   He'd rule me out of order.

I wondered who this Speaker was,
   And when I had a look,
I tore my hair in my despair,
   He was a Kelly-Cook!

They had no-confidence debates,
   Each time the clock struck three.
I used to vote against myself,
   And they'd all vote for me.

And every day at ten past two,
   A Joe Cook would demand
Why was there not progress in
   The business of the land.

Then if I pointed out 'twas not
   The fault of my neglect,
Some fifteen other Cooks would rise,
   And loudly interject.

I drafted forty thousand Bills,
   But never got one through;
I answered questions, every hour --
   A million, maybe two.

And then I heard a whispered word,
   As I sat there dejected:
A dozen Cooks and seven Kellys
   More had been elected.

I saw them come to be sworn in,
   And gave one piercing scream,
And woke and thanked the kindly fates
   That it was but a dream.

Maybe you are inclined to scoff,
   And mock my trouble deep;
But you've not had night-Cook nor seen
   Dream-Kellys in your sleep.

"Klariden"
The Gadfly, 11 July 1906, p9