Grannie knows best

We have got a wee grannie who sits on two thrones
While most of her family we would gladly disown
She married old Phil many long years in the past
He was Greek now he’s British, a bigoted oaf till the last
Charlie was her eldest,the last pretender is he
She’s sworn to outlive him, so that king He’ll not be
Anne loves her horses, and Drew takes Arab bribes
But these are not for himself we must all realize
He’s got a toe fetish ex wife who’s been bankrupted twice
She didn’t play the game but thought Diana was nice
Charles Loved his horses and Camilla would do
But Di bore him one son, and someone’s Harry made two
We all thought Edward was Gay, but it seems that he’s not
And as if to prove that he wasn’t, married he got
Wills married Kate with the press lusting for her bum
Publicity is the Life blood of their establishment chums
Now this is the year of Lizzie’s Diamond Jubilee
So Palaces privileged all turned out en-mass to see
There were Lords and their Ladies,uncommon commoners too
Prime ministers and Speakers talking of Kaleidoscopes hews
They stood to adore her, it was all there on Tv
A standing ovation bowed the place of bended knee
The BBC was in raptures, correspondents at the scene
Grannie simply knows best, so informed it would seem
As we viewed that packed hall,which we are meant to adore
Our Richest benefit claimants,filed in through Its doors
As the poor all switched off from this stomach churning sight
I sat on my throne and wished for paper soft and light
But some comfort I’ll gain from tomorrows Benefit form
I’ll wonder where Queenie signs on, or is that not her norm?
I’ll rededicate myself for some new jobs to seek
Long reign Brittania, until this time next week.

Rod Macfarlane

About auldacquaintance

I am not a member of any political party. I am however a strong supporter of Scots Independence. Any views which I express in this Blog are purely my own. This Blog intends to be a place where I will be putting my views on Scots Independence. It will primarily concern itself with the upcoming Referendum In Scotland. However It will also be somewhat diverse in the range of day to day issues which are evident to me in modern day Scotland. Not all of it will be political, and indeed may take me off into avenues I am not even aware of yet. Please come and join in on this journey, and any comments are welcome provided they are not abusive! All the best from a new acquaintance! Rod
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4 Responses to Grannie knows best

  1. Tris says:

    I’ll try to reply, though McGonnagal I’m not;
    I personally love to be rid of this lot.
    Find Liz a home, she’s committed no crime
    And put all the rest in a pantomime.
    Camilla is certainly the wicked old witch
    And Charlie the frog kissed by the bitch.
    And Ed still the fairy, despite what you say,
    Then we’ve two ugly sisters to add to the play
    We still need a page boy to clean all their boots,
    Say, Cameron’ll do, with Clegg in cahoots
    All we need now is a principal boy
    Principal? Principle?…let’s not be coy
    We need someone with legs right up to his mi”le
    There’s just no one left so we’ll give it to Phil
    So who is there now that needs to be cast?
    Well, there’s Andy…it’s not like him to be last.
    There’s a part for monster for the second son of Bess,
    That means we can throw him right into Loch Ness.
    And we’re going to need a pantomime horse,
    Well that one is easy: It’s Anne, of course.
    Can’t think of anyone else, except Alexandra
    …..So she can sell the programmes!

  2. allymax says:

    I started to write this poem, just because. It has absolutely nothing to do with the Monarchy.

    sang o’ Scotland.
    perpetual peaks, o’ Scotland’s high sno,
    weathered n’ beaton, n’ wood’nd be low.

    freedom o’ Scotland; temple’d on wait,
    sing to me Scotland, tell me oor fete.

    tell me o’ Scotland, tell me more,
    tell me o’ Bruce, thistles, tartan n’ gore.
    tell me we’re hindered by deil no more.

    Music, o muse me; calling me back;
    sing fae yer mountains, n’ sing fae yer glens,
    sing a’ those auld sangs, like ma forefather kens,
    sing, Sing Scotland! sing yer sang, like a siren to shore.

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