The year was 1984, July 14th in fact
The last of the election votes were slowly trickling back
And what the kiwis saw, as the final count came in
Was National unseated, and Labour sailing in.
The citizens had spoken, Rob Muldoon could piss right off
It's no use Thinking Big, if the returns don't cover costs
The new man was most eloquent, at home before a crowd
His booming voice and practised cadence made debate clubs proud

And now his team had swept the polls, and grabbed the upper hand
He stood now at the country's helm; where would he steer the land?
Poor naive soul, if he did think, it was his choice to make
For certain powers had decreed, e'en then, what course he'd take
He got an inkling of this truth, two days after his win
When told that Treasury and Central Bank would talk to him
The matter was most urgent, and their meeting needs be hid
The Auckland Airport's lounge for VIPs was adequate

Along he went, and learned of what the worries were about
There'd been a run on NZ bucks; reserves were running out
And e'en as they spoke, an economic crisis loomed
Which threatened to engulf his nascent reign in darkest gloom
This currency dysfunction must be fixed, and that right fast
Th' alternative was chaos, and a voters' wrath most harsh
Devaluation must ensue, a score percent at least
Do that, and he just might manage to make fiscal ends meet
This all was laid upon him in a flurry, thick and fast
Bewild'ring him at first, and yet he soon rose to the task

The news was most unsett'ling, a great show'r on his parade
But one way or the other, a decision must be made
He wasn't an economist, did not pretend to be
The experts in that area had spoken; he must heed
But he'd not tell Muldoon the news that he'd made up his mind
He asked that Treasury, or Central Bank, pass on that line
They, in turn, thought it no obligation on their part
So word was not delivered, and Muldoon stayed in the dark

He waited in his office in the Beehive, on floor nine
Expecting that the telephone would ring at any time
But 5pm rolled round upon that Monday, the 16th,
And still pugnacious Muldoon had heard not even a peep,
And so returning to his home, the stately Vogel House
He sat, turned on the telly and attempted to wind down
His wife meanwhile, without his ken, or so the story goes,
To help him rest, did disconnect the fam'ly telephone
So that no pesky calls from colleagues would disturb his peace
And get him riled up just when he should put up his feet
And hence when Roderick Deane tried calling, as he's said to've done
He got a busy signal, talked to no one, then hung up

Lange, meanwhile, concluded that a news blackout was best
He shunned reporters' questions and the secret remained kept
The upshot was, on Monday night Muldoon went on TV
And stated he would not devalue NZ's currency
He was yet Minister of Finance, and PM to boot,
He saw no reason to devalue; that was where he stood.
But that same evening, Lange, the Prime Minister-elect
Was also on Eyewitness as a high-profile guest.
He loudly and decisively condemned his counterpart
Muldoon hadn't just dropped the ball; he'd stabbed all in the heart
He'd gone and let the world know of the crisis taking place
There'd now be more investor flight; the market just might break

And sure enough, upon the morrow, came another run
Upon the NZD; our currency was being shunned;
And all our stock of foreign cash was flowing out the door
We'd soon not have the means to pay our debt down anymore
Such was the diagnosis of the men at Central Bank;
And Treasury declared they had the same view of the facts
It was a time most urgent; delay could not be brooked
Else their folly would be read about in hist'ry books

Yet Muldoon was a stubborn S.O.B., and wouldn't yield
The course was clear: to Muldoon's Cabinet they must appeal
The calls were made; and quickly there were several folks on board
They all agreed Muldoon should be confronted on the morn
And so on Tuesday, Jim McLay, head of the rebel group
Confronted the PM with the unpalatable news
The Treasury's advice, he told Muldoon, and Central Bank's,
Was to be followed, or he'd have rebellion on his hands

Muldoon, realising that he faced an insurrection
Grew first incensed, and yet his urge to strike back was arrested
The rebels truly seemed to have the Cabinet on side
If things came to a contest, he'd be left with second prize
While nothing if not ornery, he knew when he was licked
The way things stood, he had no other choice but to submit
And so he gave the green light to the devaluing scheme
Although it was against his pref'rence, and through gritted teeth

Muldoon, the battle-hardened warthog, had shown weakness now
The hyenas around him saw't, and began to prowl
Out front were Geoffrey Palmer and his counterpart, McLay,
With soft approach, they 'gan advising Rob call it a day
A week ago, if told he should resign, he would have laughed
How swiftly things can change; he now saw't might just come to pass
Muldoon pondered; raged and fumed; searched for a way out
But things had turned against him; he was destitute of clout

And soon he'd have to swallow the exceeding bitter pill
Of stepping down as leader of his party, National
The Muldoon era now was ended; nine years had it stretched
But fresh blood had arrived at last, and change was its intent
Yet what exactly were the plans of this brash new brigade
Who gathered around fish and chips to talk reforms to trade?
That would come clear, at least to some, with many years hindsight
But just then, they were merely men who'd set the forex right