OH QUEENIE

Oh Queenie, how the horses mope,
Tugging on the royal rope,
Solemn as they trudge along,
Marching to your funeral song.

Oh Queenie, how we miss your smile,
As your horses walk their mile,
And your troops look grimly sad,
In their regal attire clad.

Ah, Queenie, don't expect you know
I never actually saw your show,
But turned off the telly in dismay
Since T.V's rearranged today.

Queenie, I believe you were
Married to a Royal Sir,
And walked around within the Blitz
Loving Englanders to Bitz.

I understand you had some wealth
(Which no doubt kept you in good health)
And that you died within your sleep
(Enough to make a grown man weep).

Oh! Queenie person, I'm not sad,
I hope that wouldn't make you mad -
An easy life and that's for sure,
Broken by a sedate war.

Oh Queenie love, no disrespect,
The T.V schedules are a wreck,
And croccy tears are a flowing
As the maudlin queues keep growing.

The British now are at their best
As your body's laid to rest,
Queuing up to see for free
What we all love - ceremony.

Oh Queenie, Queenie, why we mourn
Is for a past that has long gorn,
A simpler time without the need
For increasingly high speed.

Queenie dear, Oh Queen my love,
You're in that palace up above,
But here on earth we muddle by,
Aware for a moment we will die.

And so we grieve for what has passed,
And realise that WE won't last,
And though we knew you distantly
Your death's really no catastrophe.

Farewell then, and farewell dreams
Of life in gentle slo-mo scenes,
And welcome back reality -
In all its dull conformity.