So I had
A reverie, went
Spastic through
Time to a polo
Match attended by
Ex-Public school
Boys, orchard
Suits, their brainless
Wives in cahoots,
Supping Scrumpy,
and
Prince Harry on a horse:
He looked down at
Me (of course), and I
Pointedly turned the
Other way, being a
Sworn republican.
But at the end of the
Imagined day,
I felt churlish,
And strangely forlorn -
In the first place
Dear young
Harry never
Asked to be born;
And all I want
For the monarchy is
That the Queen’s
Head be replaced with
A Euro, and the
Duke, when he dies,
Has the remains of
His face revised
Into the shape of one
Indian satellite dish
Sent to orbit the sun.
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