#977 - the singing can only save you for so long

 

977

half mast, ninety six guns

or

the singing can only save you for so long

I.M. ERII

for ozzy ozzy oi-ists

meditation on our current state of queenlessness

 

all human things are subject to decay

and when fate summons, monarchs must obey

                                     – Dryden

 

 

she was the real deal queen of all childhood
(eyes follow you when the teacher ducks out)

 

she was that permanence

politics must afford

(else otherwise Putin, Xi Jingping, Trump)

 

today must mourn

no-longer-living fossil of might was right

providing time with punctuation

and none of it her fault

 

(she never personally colonized me

she never suggested they should eat cake

always kept her head screwed on)

 

Her Majesty’s a very nice girl

 

straight face mid all the antics

no metaphors required

once handy with the knighting sword

 

doesn’t have a lot to say

 

but here’s a tear in the fabric of space and of time

 

all those queen’s counsels – where are they now?

at least OHMS and OHMSS go on

at least the gambit remains

 

they say she served us

that’s just to add to the irony pile

 

who’ll rule the kingdom now?

 

the only time I myself saw her passing by

was at the opening of the High Court in Canberra

I was protesting about it, went there specially

but now I can’t remember why

 

was she amused?

her ‘husband and…’

I remember no royal wave

but that might have been further along

 

we sang ‘what shall we do with Malcolm Fraser?’

the cops were pretty reasonable

and it was a lot of fun

 

no one was drawn or quartered

or ended up head on a pike

 

but everyone has their own queen story

 

my dad was such an anglophile

at least until the AIF

 

this moment takes us all back

 

…she was getting on

we all are

still, nobody thought that this day would come  

 

somehow – cynicism and conviction aside –

we had hoped for an exception to the rule

 

the purpose of all that singing, by the way

and ‘confound their knavish tricks’

is to keep a monarch in line

 

may he ever give us cause

with heart and voice to sing

 

because you never know what they might get up to

those wily sovereigns

the nutty religious stuff

secret backsliding

 

happy and glorious

and with that always regal sparkle

 

way to go!

 

you might not like the job description

you could entertain doubts re the institution

certain antecedents, the toffy nose

R.P. – her own English

corgis, horses, conquests of yore

let’s not forget the crusades

princes in towers

much beheading

a bit of witch burning here and there

not to mention the cakes  

 

though listing it here like this

it’s the magnificent gluttony of Georgie Four’s ending most impresses

(couldn’t sign anything for the last year or two from the gout

but you should read the last supper menu

… Mr Creosote was an also-ran)

 

blue blood

and some, of course, bleeders

(not enough cousins to kiss)

 

but this one!

nicest monarch ever, hands down

who’ll fault her?

 

she’s gone

and so – we’re next!

that’s the take-away, as they say

‘even the Queen!’

 

but all this by the by

 

when the empire’s over

(ah but now there are others you mustn’t call)

when the Deity can’t be believed –

a special reverence today to say

God Save the King!