St. George’s Day

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Reblogged from April 23rd 2018

 

He got about did our Saint George

Can it be true he’s from abroad?

I guess, but for the dragon thing

They never would have chosen him.

 

They chose him for his slaying skills

The very man to cure our ills

To keep all dragons from our shore

There are no dragons anymore.

 

They say that he was born a Turk

But went to Rome in search of work.

A Roman soldier on a horse

He slew a dragon in due course.

 

England’s long past celebrating

Leave that to the other nations.

We are scared to wave our flag

Lest they think we’re fascist thugs.

 

It’s used for things we can’t support

So only gets brought out for sport.

The Welsh, the Irish and the Scots

Wave their flags but we can not.

 

Nationalism’s just not cricket.

Can’t be English only British.

No patriotism deeply felt.

We have to leave that to the celts.

 

Three cheers today is George’s day

Whose flag we wave when we’re at play.

So raise your glass and drink to him,

The knight who did the dragon in.

Where’s the PPE?

We tell them that they’re heroes;

Stand outside and clap

But are they meant to die for us?

Is it enough to clap?

 

We praise their dedication,

Utterly selfless care

But where is that equipment?

Why is it not there?

 

Medics are not soldiers

They don’t sign up for war

They are not meant to die for us

Just to give us care.

 

We praise our gallant medics

But it’s plain for all to see

They need the right protection

Where’s the PPE?

Round and round the garden goes good Captain Moore

Round and round the garden
Goes good Captain Moore
Round and round the garden
Then a few times more.

Round and round the garden
With his zimmer frame
Ninety nine, he’s near a ton
But he’s off again!

Round and round the garden
Not a man to quit
Wants to thank the NHS
Wants to do his bit.

Round and round the garden
Raise a thousand pounds
‘Stay at home’, we can’t go out
Round and round the grounds.

One step, two step, are we nearly there?
Seems he’s raised a good deal more
Off we go again.

Round and round the garden
Raise a million pounds
Breaking news – it’s twenty now!
Round and round he goes.

On, on goes lockdown
Will it never end
Cheer us up good Captain Moore
Or we’ll go round the bend.

You can’t keep down old soldiers
Men who fought a war
Round and round the garden
Will you do some more?

NHS our heroes.
You’re a hero too
Round and round the garden
On and on you go.

99 year old war veteran Capt. Tom Moore has raised more than £21m for NHS charities by completing 100 laps of his garden. He has captured the imagination of the British public and has vowed to go on walking although his original £1,000 target has been exceeded beyond anyone’s imagination.

If you would like to donate to the campaign, you can do so by visiting Captain Moore’s official Just Giving pageonline.

Christ can’t come this Easter

Christ can’t come this Easter

They’ve locked him in the tomb

Hope may spring eternal

But don’t come out your room.

 

The church is locked this Easter

The priests all stuck at home

We’re worshipping remotely

The strangest Easter known.

 

Recall poor Jesus’ passion

The three days in the tomb

Pray for resurrection

For getting out your room.

 

Three days can change everything

So what will these weeks do?

There’s going to have to be a change

I guess it’s down to you.

 

 

Every Picture Tells a Story (from an original by Rod Stewart)

Starin’ at the same old interior standing in my own front room

Heard the news in a thousand ways, but it came out soundin’ ‘ just the same

Telly said, man, you better shun the world

I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to leave

But remember one thing, don’t touch your face or go near human beings

So I got out

Paris was a place you could hide away, if you felt you didn’t fit in

French police wouldn’t give me no peace, said that I shoulda’ stayed in

Down along the left bank, minding my own

But they said three or four was a crowd

Got me arrested for invading their space,

when all I did was breath fresh air

I was accused

I moved on

Down in Rome I wasn’t getting enough

Of the things that make a man feel alive

Pope gave a mass to an empty square, seemed I just hadn’t a prayer

Getting desperate, indeed, alone in a tourist attraction

Oh, my dear, had be outt’a there for the vatican won’t give it no sanction

I wasn’t ready for that, no, no

I moved right out east, yeah

On the Peking ferry I was feeling merry, sailing all the way back here

I fell in love with a Chinese girl by the light of an eastern moon

But Shanghai Lil she went and got ill, with a cough that just weren’t natural

We were sent below deck, a right pain in the neck

Stuck on a cruise ship forever

Stuck on a cruise ship forever

I firmly believed that I didn’t need anyone but me

I sincerely thought I was so complete

Seems now that’s how it must be

The women I’ve known I wouldn’t let tie my shoe

They wouldn’t give you the time of day

But life all alone knocked me off my feet

Now all alone I just flounder

And if they had the words I would tell to you

To help you on your way and cope with the life we’re now livin’

I couldn’t quote you no dickens, shelley or keats

‘Cause it’s all been said before

Make the best out of the bad, just laugh it off

You ain’t go in’. Any place anyway, so remember

Every picture tells a story don’t it?

Every picture tells a story don’t it?

Every picture tells a story don’t it?

Every picture tells a story don’t it?

Every picture tells a story don’t it?

Every picture tells a story don’t it?

Hello Virus (Sound of Silence)

Hello virus, you’re no friend

You’re so vicious, softly creeping

You sowed a seed that caught us sleeping

And the danger travelling quickly like a train

Still remains.

And in the ghostly streets there’s silence

Lost with my thoughts I walk alone

Silent streets all life has gone.

Obeying rules for getting out

Covering up my nose and face.

I cross the road or slow my pace

And keep my distance

Surrounded by the sound of silence.

And in the silent streets I saw

A dozen people, maybe more.

People nodding but not speaking

People greeting but not touching

People writing songs social media share

And no one dare

Touch for fear of virus

“Fools” , they say. You do not know

Virus like a cancer grows

Hear my words that I might teach you

Flee my arms arms for fear it reach you

But their words like silent raindrops fell

And echoed

In the wells of silence

And the people bowed and prayed

To the failing god they made

And the sign flashed out its warning

In the words that it was forming

And the sign said, “Stay at home

Don’t risk the subway walls or railings

Wash your hands don’t take a risk”

But still we walk, drink in the silence.

Locked Down at Home (Like a Rolling Stone)

Once upon a time life was just fine

You thought it would last, but good times passed, they’re through.

Viral infection coming for all, feverish, coughing that’s how we fall.

Guess you thought they were kidding you?

And you’d laugh about

How they said it would all turn out

Now you don’t scoff so loud

You’re avoiding the crowd

Emptied the streets, it’s all so unreal.

How does it feel, how does it feel?

To be on your own

You and your nearest, stuck in at home.

Normality gone, kids out of school, locked down lonely

But you know you’ll have to get used to it

What if they caught you out on the street?

And now you’re gonna have to get used to it

You say you never realised

You’d only get out for exercise

All the people down on their knees

Staring into the vacuum…

(From an original by Bob Dylan)

The Royals and I : a statement from Andrew Green

It’s time for me to to break my long silence on a sensitive topic. Loyal followers will be acutely aware that I was overlooked this summer in my quest to be the United Kingdom’s next Poet Laureate. I had hoped that my close association with Her Majesty the Queen, living, as I then did just across the river from her, would have swung the decision in my favour but sadly it was not to be. It seems that, despite the commitment I demonstrated to producing verse for royal occasions my little ditties were not quite what Her Majesty or the lackies surrounding her were seeking.

I thought the country could do with cheering up a bit but they obviously didn’t agree. Now that we have a comedian for our Prime Minister, and a majority of the country seem sufficiently entertained to want him returned to office, I assume we bards have to strike a more serious note.

I can not pretend that the slight was unexpected but frankly the rejection was harder to take than I’d expected. It’s rather like applying for a job you weren’t sure you wanted. You try to tell yourself you don’t care when they don’t want you but there’s something about the act of applying that convinces you you wanted the job even if any first you weren’t sure.

I thought my collected royal poems in the aptly titled, Begging Your Pardon : Please Can I Be Laureate? might have swung things but sadly they didn’t seem to. The volume is still available on Amazon for anyone who may have missed it but frankly it’s time for me to move on and focus on other things. Hopefully there literary juices will start to flow again and I’lll be back to myself in 2020 but my association with the royal family is I’m sad to say at an end.

It’s with some regret that I dissociate myself from royal associations but, given my namesake Prince Andrew’s single handed attempt to ensure our name “Andrew’ will not make the top ten boy’s names for 2020, it’s probably the right time.

I think I will be better off foregoing royal patronage and striking out on my own. To reinforce the separation we have sold our house across the river from Her Majesty and moved to a new property down river in Maidenhead where I shall be licking my wounds in the parliamentary constituency of our former Prime Minister, the Rt. Hon Theresa May, who knows a little about rejection herself. I’m not quite certain what comes next but watch this space for news of new beginnings.

A Job Offer from Buckingham Palace!

I’ve finally had a job offer from Buckingham Palace! I’m a little surprised and confused because it’s not quite the job I’d hoped for. You’ll know I hope that I have offered myself as the next Poet Laureate. Sadly there has been no news on that front but another opportunity has come up.

I’ve received correspondence, via an agency I forgot I’d ever registered with, offering me a job in ticket sales. Slightly left field but maybe Her Majesty is dropping a hint I need to get a foot in the door and work my way up? I’d have preferred ‘fast track’ given my advanced years but you have to start somewhere. I’ll share the details here in case any one else is interested.

Dear Andrew

We are sending you this mailing because you are registered on the UK’s leading website for over 50s jobseekers.
The Royal Collection Trust has posted a new job opportunity which may be of interest to you.The employers are particularly interested in receiving applications from people aged over 50. The details are shown below.
Please accept our apologies if your experience or interest lies elsewhere. We’ll be sending new opportunities in the next few weeks.

Thank you.
It’s being part of the team who deliver an exceptional visitor experience.
It’s the collaboration and the community spirit. And it’s helping millions enjoy magnificent buildings and beautiful art. 
This is what makes working for Royal Collection Trust so different.
When the doors of Buckingham Palace’s glorious State Rooms are opened to the public each August and September, hundreds of thousands of people come to visit. As part of an outstanding and friendly team, you’ll make their experience special.
Whether you’re selling the ticket that starts it all, making things perfect on the day, or providing the outstanding retail service at the end, you’ll make every visitor feel welcome and valued.
You’ll answer their questions, provide information, and always aim for the highest possible levels of visitor care and security.
About you
Friendly, outgoing and professional, with the ability to communicate well with all kinds of people, you’ll fit right in.
You’re an outstanding team player, cool and calm under pressure, and able to work flexibly and effectively even when things get busy.
For our Retail and Ticket Sales roles, an ability to engage with customers to meet sales targets is important too, as well as numeracy and a good level of computer literacy.
Above all, you know what it takes to create the kind of customer experience that leaves a lasting and positive impression.

This is your opportunity to use your personality and customer service skills to deliver the exceptional.
Royal Collection Trust is committed to equality of opportunity.
The closing date for applications is 23 January 2019.
Pay: £10.55 per hour, plus lunch and training provided

Hours: A minimum of 300 hours for the duration of the contract. You will typically be rostered to work over 4 or 5 days per week, Monday to Sunday, including regular weekends.

Contract: Fixed-term
To see more about this role and Apply please click Here. 

 

 

 

 

A guest blog from Her Majesty the Queen

It seems that the would be Laureate Mr. Andrew Green was put out that One did not include a ‘shout out’, as he chooses to put it, for his book Begging Your Pardon – Please Can I Be Laureate? in one’s Christmas Message. One has apologised of course but a few words here seemed the least one could do to make up.

2018 has been a year of centenaries. The Royal Air Force celebrated its hundredth anniversary with a memorable fly-past demonstrating a thrilling unity of purpose and execution. We owe them and all our armed services our deepest gratitude and 100 years on from the ending of World War 1 we should not forget the poets who brought the horrors of war to life for us. Who can forget Wilfred Owen who died so tragically days before the armistice? We recall that his mother received the telegram informing her of his death on Armistice Day as the church bells in Shrewsbury were ringing out in celebration of the wars end. One likes poetry and will be putting in a word for Mr. Green to be the next Poet Laureate. It would be handy for one with him living so close to Windsor. One’s there most week-ends and never knows when a quick couplet might be called for.

It has been a busy year for my family. With two weddings and two babies and another child expected soon. I loved Mr. Green’s poem for Harry and Meghan’s wedding though it was a little disrespectful here and there and I have warned him to pull his socks off. We don’t do the ‘off with his head’ bit any more but we still have standards. Harry enjoyed it but we know about his sense of humour and the trouble it gets him into. Meghan wasn’t awfully sure; a bit to British for her one expects.

It all helps to keep a grandmother well occupied. We have had other celebrations too, including the 70th birthday of the Prince of Wales. I forgot to buy him a card and have heard about nothing else all year. Charles thinks one is becoming forgetful and should think of retiring.

Some cultures believe a long life brings wisdom. I’d like to think so. Perhaps, part of that wisdom is to recognize some of life’s baffling paradoxes such as why everything one enjoys eating or drinking is so bad for one. One has eaten so much this Christmas and would like to go on a diet in the New Year but all the beastly banquets make that so difficult for one.

In April the Commonwealth Heads of Government met in London. My father welcomed just eight countries to the first such meetings in 1948. Now, the Commonwealth includes 53 countries with 2.4 billion people, a third of the world’s population. Its strength lies in the bonds of affection it promotes and a common desire to live in a better, more peaceful world. It’s important to build friendships around the world especially when we are struggling to get on with the neighbours.

One’s nervous of mentioning the Brexit thing, every one gets so cross with each other’s and one’s running out of relatives one can marry off to take people’s mind off it.

Even with the most deeply held differences, treating the other person with respect and as a fellow human being is always a good first step towards greater understanding. Indeed the Commonwealth Games held this year on Australia’s Gold Coast are known universally as the friendly games because of their emphasis on good will, mutual respect and not inviting the Americans, Chinese or European’s. We send four British teams instead of one and win stacks more medals than we would otherwise. We love it.

The Christmas story retains its appeal since it doesn’t provide theoretical explanations for the puzzles of life. Instead, it’s about the birth of a child, and the hope that birth 2,000 years ago, brought to the world. Only a few people acknowledged Jesus when he was born; now billions follow him. I believe his message of peace on earth and goodwill to all and unexpected success is never out of date. It can be heeded by everyone; not least obscure poets!!

A very happy Christmasto you all and may Mr. Green and his poetry thrive in the New Year!

Oh and buy the book or, if one’s to poor, get the kindle version.