Judith Murray (@Jayem)

WATER RATES It rained for forty days and nights And then the sun came out For three whole days it shone full bright The Councillors declared a drought. The Mayor exclaimed “It's climate change! For three days it has run. No clouds, no wind, no rain, no cold, No nothing but the sun!” And then he smiled – an evil grin And whispered to the rest “We'll have to get those meters in. Water is scarce in times like this. The profit will be too good to miss!” And the Councillors looked at each other And grinned their secret little grins. Word went around from mouth to ear Of charges planned by the city's Mayor. Queries went to the engineer. The people cried “What's this we hear? Are stocks, or shares, or a company planned? Or is it a 'Council Only' band With 'Councillors Only' directors and board To care for the watery hoard?” “Oh no!” cried the Council in great dismay. “The charge on the water Will happen each quarter. You'll hardly notice the little you pay! As for the Board, it is needed by law With maybe a family member (or four) And a possible legal advisor (or two) The fees charged will hardly be noticed by you.” The ratepayers – disbelievers all In Council's eristical mutterings Created a run on old tin drums And plastic hoses and gutterings. Every roof of every house Became a catch for rain To cheat the city guardians of Pecuniary gain. The Council in a muddle went into a huddle To check the legal precedents for civil disobedience When citizens themselves did please To pay – or not – the Council fees. “Let's cut their water off!” cried one (but recently elected). Replied an older, wiser voice (many times selected) “Not very democratic that. They are the next term's voters, And with the city bristling drums, I wonder if they'd notice.” The Council concluded, for this one event - To get them to pay every quarter They had to convince city residents There was a shortage of water. The idea was, folk would be told Though water seemed abundant Climate Change with heat and cold Would soon make that redundant And though it seemed to rain a lot In damp New Zealand, it did not. The Council sat for three full hours Devising ways to extend their powers So those who'd used water for which they'd not paid Had a debt which would follow them into the grave. A junior was sent for a cemetery count And bills were drawn up for each hallowed amount Ratepayers, children, visitors too Would all pay a fee for the water they'd used. The Council ecstatically clapped their hands Such revenue councillors rarely command. “Well cripes! I don't know about that as a plan.” A nervous voice called from the dark at the back. “The citizens may be remarkably dim But they still have the numbers to do us all in.” Next day the clouds piled up again All day it teemed with rain. The Mayor looked on – face drawn with pain At all that money – down the drain.