OATS.

~~OATS.

I saw them marching on parade
The Guards in scarlet coats
Metal work was burnished bright
With highly polished boots
One officer was mounted
A brigadier surveyed
The throng of horse guard patriots
Who watched the troops arrayed

Massed-bands played stirring music
Cacophonies abound
Approaching now her majesty
The word spreads quickly round
Tension could be measured
I heard a sergeant’s wail
And then I saw the O.C’s horse
Raise up its plaited tail

Manure was soon a player
In this solemn ceremony
More pigeons came a-flocking
To partake of it for tea
They nearly upstaged HRH
Arriving on her steed
But bless her royal cotton socks
Who saw the funny side

 

Comments

Profile image

Philipos

Sat 30th May 2015 17:00

Thank you both for your kind comments. I have left a response on your home page. CHEERS.

Profile image

Cynthia Buell Thomas

Fri 29th May 2015 11:38

Oats in - oats out! That is the nature of oats - beast or man - hard to regulate.

Delightful canter through a formal parade - and I'm presuming the breakdown of rhyme and rhythm in the last stanza is dead on purpose.

Great to see your work again.

Profile image

Harry O'Neill

Thu 28th May 2015 23:01

Phil,
A good Human and ceremonial satire (and in rhyme!)

Good job our royal lot are horsey types who have been wallowing around in horse-shit since childhood.

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message