ROYAL COMMAND

The Queen had just started her reign at the time When she wrote to me out of the blue. I don’t think she knew me, well, not very well, Though I’d waved to her once, as you do. I was resting in bed when I read what she said, I had to join up for two years. It was all cut and dried or they’d have you inside And cut all your hair off with shears. The training was tough and the company rough With no time at all to sit still. Marching, parading, saluting and chores And polishing boots for a drill. They shouted and called and insulted and bawled And the corporal we had was the worst, Sadistic and proud and exceedingly loud The most hated among the accursed. An impregnable bully with power, so it seemed For he drove for His Nibs when required, A large khaki Humber, a red flag up front, Envied, he thought, and admired. He was urgently washing the limo one day, Hosing it down with a sneer, When His Lordship arrived, with other top brass And they settled themselves in the rear. Our man took his seat and jiggled his feet But water had got in the works. He tried and he tried, but it spluttered and died And they all got out looking like berks. His world fell apart, he was out on his ear, A driver unwanted and sore. Justice was served, it was richly deserved, His tyrannical reign was no more. Our postings arrived and for two years we strived. The Queen, of course, owes me a debt. I’ll write to her soon at the next harvest moon, ’Cos she won’t know the half of it yet.

John Everrett, Colchester, Essex.

...andLimerick

Jeremy Corbyn, to date, Has sealed some ministers’ fate, With a signal that’s meant To discourage dissent, And leave rather less room for debate.

Jenny Grove, Kew, Surrey.