A BLOATED prince of parasites, a libel on the past:|
We hail him as the coming king when kings are going fast—
The end of England’s royal line—the last perhaps and worst;
We’ll set him up on England’s throne, and call him “Wales the First”.
I’d like to see that future—what changes will it bring?
I think ’twill he a funny time when “Wales the First” is king.
I wonder how the crown will suit the thick fat head of “Tummy”;
I wonder how he’ll fit the throne where sits his royal mummy:
I’d like to see him sitting there, for ’twould be royal sport
To see his bulgy eyes upon the “ladies of the court”!
O ladies of the Fancy, fling out your legs and sing
A royal tune for prostitutes, when “Wales the First” is king.
We cannot say he’s “Gracious”, and neither can we say
The Prince of Wales is “noble”, for he isn’t “built that way”.
We cannot say he’s much “inspired with wisdom from above”;
And, as for “love”, we’ve had enough of England’s royal love:
His poet laureate must make another song to sing;
The “anthem” will not fit the case when “Wales the First” is king.
We’re safe to hear the angels weep up there beyond the skies,
We’re right for songs of drivel when the “Selfish Woman” dies;
But England‘s bands must buckle up and chase the Muse around;
They’ll need their inspiration when the Prince of Wales is crowned;
But king he mightn’t be, perhaps; the great might feel the sting
Of terrible Democracy ere “Wales the First” is king.