Blorenge

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

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