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Australia's richest person, the mining magnate Ms. Gina Rinehart, has been ridiculed for penning an anti-government poem that rhymes "rampant tax" with "political hacks" and pleads for "special economic zones". The poem, a sort of ode to mining titled "Our Future", has been engraved on a plaque fixed to a 30-ton iron ore boulder as part of a new outdoor artwork in the billionaire's home state of Western Australia. Ms Rinehart proposed that the boulder be installed as a monument to iron ore.

The poem, which consists of eight rhyming couplets, proclaims the benefits of the resources industry and lampoons the government. But its aesthetic quality has come under question, with one critic describing it on Wikipedia as "the universe's worst poem, although many still dispute if it qualifies to be classified as poetry".

The poem in full:

Our Future

The globe is sadly groaning with debt, poverty and strife
And billions now are pleading to enjoy a better life

Their hope lies with resources buried deep within the earth
And the enterprise and capital which give each project worth

Is our future threatened with massive debts run up by political hacks
Who dig themselves out by unleashing rampant tax

The end result is sending Australian investment, growth and jobs offshore
This type of direction is harmful to our core

Some envious unthinking people have been conned
To think prosperity is created by waving a magic wand

Through such unfortunate ignorance, too much abuse is hurled
Against miners, workers and related industries who strive to build the world

Develop North Australia, embrace multiculturalism and welcome short term foreign workers to our shores
To benefit from the export of our minerals and ores

The world's poor need our resources: do not leave them to their fate
Our nation needs special economic zones and wiser government, before it is too late

Thats got nothing on the Vogons Im afraid.

Hell, it even rhymes in places, so I suspect that rules it out of consideration as "poetry" as far as modern literary taste goes anyway....

Lost work of Ayn Rand, innit?

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Some poems rhyme
But this one doesn't.

Can this one compete in worst poem in the world competition?

This is real poetry, I kid not.

I recall there was a colleague in another department that was so bewitched by analytic philosophy that she formulated a matrix that quantified the value of any poetic work. I also think she got it published in some weirdo journal that she probably knew the editors/reviewers. It was all bollox of course, but funny.

It's worse than William McGonnagal. At least he knew his poetry was bad, and played up to his image. Ms Rinehart appears to believe there is some literary merit to her doggerel.

And there's a Canadian connection, except that I think she's missed an opportunity for an extra couplet at the end:

It's hard to top Muhammad Ali's "Me, we".
Genius.

Or, in a McGonnagal accent,

Oh, beautiful tar sands, the future's own way
I choke on your poisons two times a day.

We know that poor Novo, oilsands leave him seething,
But I don't really understand which of the poisons he's breathing.

If he can smell them from there, get his nose checked out pronto,
It must be his fags, or the fumes of Toronto.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I'd like a Visa,
But I'll have to marry you.

Very nice.

Fort McMurray, there's the lolly.
Me, I prefer Norfolk. Solly.