Down the lane, I saw them march:
Her Royal Highness’ Guard!
Fly forth, tout suite, into their ranks,
Where we shall play a lovely prank
And perhaps might raise a cheerful stank
Among this stoic lot.
One two, one two!
Keep in time with fat tap shoes,
Fixed forward like their proud glares
Hidden beneath black furry crowns
That shield them from the points and jeers
Of crowd amused that I am here
To mock their glower, bark and sneer,
Shuffle feet or stomp in time,
Seven eight, eight nine!
They turn around to back again
At which point my approach must change,
And so at the top of my lungs I shout:
“What a solemn procession
For the decay of a nation!”
The crowd is not too pleased at this
And neither are the guards –
“Make way for the Queen’s Guard!”
One shouts in fury.
“Down with the Queen!”
I shout in return –
And am immediately leapt upon
By those who disagree,
Though it all be in fun, I swear,
My gut is beaten with my pleas.
What ho, what’s this?
Dost mine eyes deceive me yet?
New knights of the militia
Fight back on my behalf.
Their fluffy scraggly blackened beards
Shield them from the blows
Of fellow guards who then draw back
Once fearful scimitars show.
“Down with the Queen!”
Chokes a woman
Clutching fearfully to her bong.
“Down with the Queen!”
Coughs a man
Who gambles on the lawn.
“Down with the Queen!”
Whispers a boy
Dressed in pageant gown.
“Down with the Queen!”
Squeaks a They
Who then demands the Crown.
All around the Royal Guard
Throngs of dissidents flock
To kick and bite and voice complaint
Until the guards’ hard features faint,
Replaced with rage and violence
As war between the parties roars
And no one knows who’s right or wrong
Until the bayonets come down;
Protect themselves – Forego the crown! –
As I watch afar with upside frown.
Oh, it’s a hoot to loose the riots
Festering beneath!
You hear hearts close to bursting,
You see the grinding teeth –
But since they can’t but crackle,
Pour gas to add the boom!
Contented fools don’t read their writings
‘Til halfway past our doom.
Morning's Early Dark 