Monday, October 24, 2011

In Two Minds

Queen arrives

The Queensland Queen

The Queensland Crowds

The Queen is visiting Australia.


We all know it's quite silly.
What is she after all?
She's just another lady,
Paying another call.
We want to be a Republic
(Well, most of us I think.)
And yet when this lady visits us
Everyone's tickled pink.
'What have we to do with Britain?'
That's what most of us say.
We're a country in our own right
Thousands of miles away.
We're full of other races,
We're in the Asian sphere,
And sometimes, the lady's children
Raise nothing but a sneer.
'Why should we pay our taxes
To give her a little spree?
No-ones really interested
In her Royal Family Tree.'
And yet there's such affection
For this charming elderly Queen!
Older folk remember
The years that lie between.
The speech of a sweet young Princess
Promising to give her life
In the service of her country
In times of peace and strife.
The way she's done her duty
In a quite amazing way,
Always, always gracious
As she is up to this day.
She is the perfect Granny,
With her flawless English complexion,
Her silver hair and funny hats
And her smile in 'my' direction.
Royalty is teetering;
It's glory days are done;
The only hope it has these days
Rests with Charlie's son.
But for one bright, brief moment,
A moment not to be missed,
It seems that the whole of Australia
Is suddenly Royalist.



Who knows the very private thoughts
Behind each different mask?
Questions about a person's mind
We simply do not ask.
That burly tattooed macho man
Seen strolling down the street,
May be a pussy-cat at heart
And really rather sweet.
That prim and proper lady
With the pursed and sneering lips
May be longing to go crazy
And sway seductive hips!
That tarty little creature
Showing everything she's got,
May be overcoming shyness
And has simply lost the plot!
That woman at the Church Bazaar
Who seems so very kind,
May be thinking most un-Christian thoughts
In the cavern of her mind.
We're all a bit like the Lion,
Maybe, like him, surface-bold,
But, underneath, a Coward,
Whose story is untold.
I'm posing as a poet,
But I'm off to make the bed!
Me posing as a poet!
I'm a household drudge instead!

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