Tuesday, December 05, 2017

THE ROYAL NUPTIALS! (Part One) (weekly poem)


A reverential ode to The Queen and Prince Philip who have been
 wed for 70 years and Harry and Meghan who are about to wed.

“The great love of the century”,
That's what it's all about;
Well that's what the moronarchists,
And women's weeklies spout!
What makes these soppy sycophants,
Indulge in so much bosh?
What makes these gormless grovellers,
Write so much ghastly tosh?
How could “great love” produce an heir,
Like a wigged Toby Jug;
With a large vacuum in-between,
Each cauliflower lug?

How could “great love” throughout the years,
And Royal intercourse;
Have sired a mare the Jockey Club
Thought a new breed of horse?
How could “great love” produce a spiv,
Who's job was selling arms?
A pompous, rude and Royal oaf,
Who lacks all basic charms?
How could “great love” produce a wimp,
A luvvy who's named Ed;
Why couldn't Phil and Liz have bought,
A budgerigar instead?

And now the Royal Wedding looms,
Gor Blimey what a thrill!
As such idolatry is bound,
To make sane folk feel ill.
Of course it's harped on from the start,
They'll work for charity;
To justify their affluence,
And the disparity.
Between them and the rest of us,
Who face just doom and gloom;
And haven't got the Royal Blood,
Of both the bride and groom! (1)

(1) Meghan's mother is black and some allege that Harry's true
      father was Major James Hewitt, one of Princess Diana's lovers.

© Richard Layton

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