Tuesday, July 30, 2019

№ 649: A Meditation On Olde England

NOT CAMELOT (July 29)

Though shopkeepers may now be “foreign”,
though Eton's field are now deserted,
though Rolls and Bentley are owned by the Germans,
the Irish and Scots are still reliably vermin.
(As is who else? Ah, yes! The Welsh.)

The Guy Fawkes set remain a threat
to our shriveling Anglican hierarchy.
J. Corbyn's crew, though they are few,
could, given time, pose a problem or two.

Still England stands, if she no longer commands
admiration and fealty of lesser lands.
Except America, where, though they often regret it,
they still look to us. (The Yanks never get it.)

Boris Bumptious, forever presumptuous,
decided we're better alone
and set out to sea as blind as can be
without GPS or a plan to get home.

Believing himself the reincarnation
of Royal Alfred or even Arthur,
thinking he would outfox all Europe,
forgetting they find us a bit of a bother.

We will not benefit if he throws a fit
and Europe shows us the door.
Can we turn to America? Those distant cousins
who'll likely chortle whilst rolling on floor?

It is impossible to predict in advance
the weary end to this dreary dance.
England's interest will not be advanced
if she is seen as a down-market France.