Aldershot's Unhappy History of Gardening Compromises
Mine is not a ranicd bun, served steaming on a plate,
Nor yet the dancing filigree that figures one of eight
But charms not yet the sense, for I am born of royal stock
Untimely ripped, and started by the stopping of the clock
Or so say those who hate the King who hates himself indeed
And strews the woodland wayside with his suppurating seed
But those who hate the King themselves are utterly reviled
By the burghes of Old Winchester, on whom the heathen smiled,
When he came up from Southampton to kill the evil child
But stayed his hand when first he saw the maenads running wild
Or so say those who loathe the Queen who hates herself by rote
And instead of leaving England, sailed to France in a boat
But kings and queens, what do they know of hatred or of greed?
Who can fathom hunger if there's nothing that they need?
Though Kings do need lots of subjects, for they are born to rule
It's rare to find a specimen who isn't just a fool
And queens are just as stupid, though it may be some have charm
But still we bow and curtsey and declare "God bless you, Ma'am!"
Contributors: | Apsley, loaf, Roland, P, fester, Beefy. |
Poem finished: | 3rd October 2002. |