Blorenge
“To hell with all this wedding blather”
Said next table’s bloke. “I’d rather
To the table nail my scrotum
Than put up with this royal hokum”.
Next day, on Blorenge hill, a wind:
A piece of blue balloon blew past,
Like a stretchy old factotum
Torn to tatters by the blast.
Once round and full, the Orange Prince
Who came to lead our Revolution.
King, Lords and Commons, balanced powers,
Bloodless, bloody constitution.
Andrew, May 2011
Infinite Coincidence 