We heard it on the Beeb, it was no freebie
This news so sad, that the mother of our monarch
Was deceased. She went in her sleep, for,
She’d had a good life.
Seen so many changes, lived through two World Wars
Of all the good work she’s done we heard the reports
And of the illness which finally carried her off.
It was a surprise, we were kept in suspense
Until finally from their archive the words came across
It was quite a shock, unexpected and sudden
We wondered how this could affect the government system?
We were always so fond of her hats with their fruit
The Nation was aware of the tension between riches and paupers
The Church to test its mettle, the armed forces to embattle
Will coats of arms change and family trees alter?
Will prisoners at her pleasure wonder about the future?
Families in her employ draw curtains and ponder?
Will we look back on her years as a Golden Age
From our far distant future or projects of grandeur
Destined to falter; do her children now mourn
Like mere mortals, with tears of blue blood?
The ranks will salute her, all the flowers bow down to her
As her soul walks into the ether
Will some African mother give birth and re-incarnate her?
Will gods new and old berate her or bless her?
She was buried with great pomp and splendour
Rest In Peace, the Queen Mother.
This news so sad, that the mother of our monarch
Was deceased. She went in her sleep, for,
She’d had a good life.
Seen so many changes, lived through two World Wars
Of all the good work she’s done we heard the reports
And of the illness which finally carried her off.
It was a surprise, we were kept in suspense
Until finally from their archive the words came across
It was quite a shock, unexpected and sudden
We wondered how this could affect the government system?
We were always so fond of her hats with their fruit
The Nation was aware of the tension between riches and paupers
The Church to test its mettle, the armed forces to embattle
Will coats of arms change and family trees alter?
Will prisoners at her pleasure wonder about the future?
Families in her employ draw curtains and ponder?
Will we look back on her years as a Golden Age
From our far distant future or projects of grandeur
Destined to falter; do her children now mourn
Like mere mortals, with tears of blue blood?
The ranks will salute her, all the flowers bow down to her
As her soul walks into the ether
Will some African mother give birth and re-incarnate her?
Will gods new and old berate her or bless her?
She was buried with great pomp and splendour
Rest In Peace, the Queen Mother.
Copyright © Christopher J. Hudson (2002)