Category: Humour

How the UK’s next Poet Laureate will be selected.

I have to be honest with you, I thought it would simply be a matter of popping round for a chat with Her Majesty and explaining that I’d be the perfect choice;  on account of writing a lot and living quite near the Castle. It seems that’s not enough! Quite a complicated process in fact.

As far as I understand Jeremy Wright, Secretary of State for Digital, Culture, Media and Sport is running the process and Her Majesty doesn’t get much of a look in. Seems very unfair to me.  She wants someone who’s handy and willing to knock something out for family occasions but the political choices are often a bit full of themselves and think jolly rhymes that cheer us all up are a bit beneath them.

Anyway there will be an advisory panel to help Jeremy whatnot, assuming he hasn’t resigned over the Brexit business or been moved on.  The panel will made up of experts from across the regions and nations of the UK. Important dignitaries like the founder of the Bradford Literature Festival. There will be representatives from the British Council, Arts Council England and Arts Council Northern Ireland, the Royal Society of Literature, Scottish Poetry Library, Literature Wales, The Poetry Society, Forward Arts Foundation, British Library and Poetry Book Society are also included in the pan

A formal announcement is expected to be made in May 2019 when we’ll get to know who’ll be doing the job for the next ten years. Hopefully that’ll give me time to jog Her Majesty’s memory and remind her of my offer.

I’m publishing my new book Begging Your Pardon : Please Can I Be Laureate before Christmas so she’ll have a chance to see what I can do.5A92A381-9187-4FE9-B085-B92B8B752DBC

 

 

Begging Your Pardon

5BDFD72F-DE0C-40AC-86D5-0C8EC73F09CFJust when I’d given up and all seemed lost I hear Carol Ann Duffy is nearing the end of her stint and the Poet Laureate job is up for grabs again.

Some of you will know I live near Her Majesty and have offered more than once to help out but so far my offer to knock out verse for all the big occasions has fallen on deaf ears.  I do my bit from time to time but, up to now, without recognition. I’ve offered to drop round to the Castle for an interview but have still not heard anything.

Anyway it seems Carol Ann Duffy’s ten year stint is coming to an end and they need a new Laureate. They’ve started to take suggestions and a new appointment will be announced in May.

It’s a well known fact that the best known poets all turn it down but I’m willing and, current low spirits aside, churn verse out almost daily. So coming up with the odd one for Her Majesty would be no problem at all.

I’d already decided to give it one more shot when the exciting news emerged the Carol Ann will soon be winding down. Fortunately I have a new book in the pipeline re-emphasising my interest and setting out my credentials.

I’m excited to announce that, ‘Begging Your Pardon: Please Can I Be Laureate?’ will be released on Amazon soon. Sign up to Andrew Green’s poems and I’ll be sure to keep you posted!

Hurrah for Little England

From an original version published on the eve of the Brexit vote.

 

Hurrah for Little England

She cast herself adrift

Say goodbye to Brussels

We’ll head into the mist.

 

Don’t know where we’re going

The captain’s overboard

But we won’t be ruled by foreigners

Or people from abroad.

 

We’ll resurrect our Empire

They’ll surely want us back

So it’s goodbye to the future

We’re turning back the clock.

 

No need for foreign factories

No need for all those jobs

For life will just be perfect

With all the foreigners gone.

 

We’ll reclaim all our colonies

Take America back;

Canada and New Zealand

They’ll surely all want that?

 

Goodbye foreign subsidy

That’s not what we need

Londoners will pay for us

Let’s let London bleed.

 

Goodbye banks and bankers

We don’t need city jobs

Life will just be perfect

When Britain’s on its tod.

 

It really should be easy

Why the awful fuss?

Those beastly Europeans

Make it hard for us.

 

It’s really not your business

We won’t obey your rules.

Why do you think as customers

You have the right to choose?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Love your English accent

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You love my English accent

But that leaves me confused.

You don’t tell a French speaking Frenchman

His accent’s awfully cute.

 

I’m from England; speaking English.

The clue is in the name.

I don’t think I have an accent

Whatever you may claim.

 

If someone has an accent

I’m rather afraid it’s you.

I’m just speaking proper English

It’s what we English do.

 

So tootle pip for now old bean

And off we jolly go.

I’m speaking my own language

It’s English don’t you know?

The day we met William and Harry

 

2641AE12-A4C1-40FE-AC85-46C95B7C6885The day we met William and Harry

They came to the end of our road.

Datchet was under water

The Thames was in full flood.

 

We’d water in the high street

We’d water in our house

The Press were on every corner

And the army had been sent out.

 

The next thing we knew

The royals waded in

Helping with sandbag walls.

Harry and William they were both there

There at the end of our road.

 

Harry was in with the soldiers

Laughing and one of the lads

William apart and quieter

When they paused

From their chosen task.

 

I joined the line

Threw them sandbags

Even shook Williams hand.

They were decent lads

I liked them

Though life has set them

Apart.

Royal Superfans

Royal Superfans - Harry and Meghan's Royal Wedding.
Royal superfans preparing for Harry and Meghan’s Wedding.

And now they’ll come; the sycophants

In silly hats and draped with flags

Sleeping out for several nights

To save their place on Windsor streets.

 

They take it all a bit too far

We’re half amused yet half appalled

To view the strange exotic hoards

That gather now round Windsor’s walls.

 

We’re local, we’ll go. We’ll  line the streets

To catch the buzz, the grand parade,

The marching bands, the passing waves

But we won’t go wild like such as these.

 

It’s history, tradition it’s what we do

It’s part of what makes us who we are.

But keep it all in sane proportion.

You’re overboard, you go too far.

 

We know it’s eccentric, slightly wrong

But like it enough to carry on.

The royals are trapped as much as us

We’ll party on but please, no fuss.

 

Royal Superfans, Windsor Castle, Prince Harry and Meghan Markle's Wedding.
Two days to go but the royal superfans are already in place.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ladders

I’m really great with ladders

I can get right to the top

Some of you get nervous

But me I go straight up.

 

At height I’m totally fearless

And I clamber up so quick

I slide down just as quickly

At really quite a lick.

 

I’m great at going up them

I’m great at coming down

But I have a bit of a problem

With doing stuff once up.

 

I’m not much use up a ladder

Not much use on the floor

So maybe I’ll just hold the thing

For you to get stuff done?

Poem for the Royal Wedding

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It’s three cheers for Harry,

And three cheers for Meghan

Forget about the national state

And celebrate a wedding.

 

Everything’s red, blue and white

Church bells are a-ringing

Everyone is on the street

And all the choirs are singing.

 

Got no time for grumpy folk

We’re overdue a party

Happy tears run down our cheeks

Our cheers are loud and hearty.

 

Politicians all poe-faced

None of them invited

Not been much to shout about

But now we’re all excited.

 

Meghan is a clever girl

Seen her on the telly

Bound to shake things up a bit

And add a bit of welly.

 

William is the one day king

Lesser role for Harry

But he’s found a super bride

He’s no need to worry.

 

Carriage round the Windsor streets

When will they get started?

Band strikes up a marching tune

Couple have departed.

 

Dad is anxious, checks his watch

Glad it’s finally started

Catch the footie on the box

Once the crowds have parted.

 

Harry had a hard time

Now his life looks better

Found a girl who suited him

He’s a lucky beggar.

 

Waspy women from the shires,

Their disappointed daughters

Harry picked a royal bride

From across the water.

 

It’s three cheers from loyal throats

It’s three cheers for Meghan

We all think the Prince deserves

A little slice of heaven.

 

It’s no go the politics

It’s no go the future

All we wants a good day out

And focus on the couture.

 

Enjoy the party while you can

Enjoy the party poppet

Forget what’s coming down the line

There is no way to stop it.

 

We all fell out; we don’t agree

The nation is divided

Today we choose to celebrate

And carefully avoid it.

 

So catch a smile from Harry there

And catch a wave from Meghan

Soldiers in their bright red coats,

A-marching to the wedding.

 

Britain’s got it’s heritage

Our history is behind us.

Days like this we still do well

Against the odds they bind us.

 

 

 

My long awaited poem

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My long awaited poem

Will be coming very soon.

Carol Ann’s not done one

So mine will have to do.

I didn’t get £200 a year

Or the butt of canary wine

But Carol Ann’s not done one

So it’s all come down to me.

It’s down to a Windsor poet

To knock one out this time

I’m not a royal sycophant

My work’s not always elegant

But I can, occasionally, rhyme.

So forgive me Poet Laureate

No offence is meant;

A little offering of my own

I hope you won’t resent.

I struggle with pentameter

Am really just an amateur.

It’ll be a bit Dee dum, Dee dum

But at least I can say I’ve written one!

 

https://wordpress.com/post/andrewagreen.uk/1048

 

Lamb National

 

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Big event at Ascot;

The Queen is sure to go.

We’re tired of watching horses

Give the lambs a go!

 

They’re full of spring time frolics

Will easy take the jumps.

Watching lambs in spring time

You can’t be in the dumps.

 

We love to see them gambol

Great to watch I bet.

Put your woolly jumper

On the one you think is best.

 

Don’t let bookies fleece you

The odds are not the best.

There must be honest bookies

But I’ve not met one yet.

 

Lambs frolic round the meadow

By way of Beechers Brook.

‘Mint Sauce leading Gravy,

Mutton coming through’.

 

Not sure who you bet on

But I bet on the ewe.

Thought I’d backed a winner

But I never do.

 

You flock around the winner

Ram it down my throat

Glad you backed the winner

Do you have to gloat?

 

I lost all my money

Really gets my goat!

Seems I went for mutton

That was dressed as lamb.