901

EMAIL ON BEHALF OF THE QUEEN. An important announcement regarding the USA.

A message to all the citizens of the United States of America from Her Sovereign Majesty Queen Elizabeth II:

Because of your ongoing failure to manage your finances and also, in recent years, your tendency to elect incompetent Presidents and thus not able to govern yourselves properly, we hereby give notice of the revocation of your independence. This will take place immediately. (You should look up 'revocation' in the Oxford English Dictionary.)

Her Sovereign Majesty (Queen Elizabeth) will be resuming monarchical command over all states, commonwealths and territories alike (except Kansas, which she does not fancy).

Your new Prime Minister, David ('Call Me Dave') Cameron, will appoint a Governor for America without the formality of further elections.

Congress and the Senate will be disbanded. A questionnaire will be circulated sometime next year to check whether any of you noticed.

To assist in this transition to a British Crown dependency, the following rules are being introduced with immediate effect:


The letter 'U' will be reinstated in words such as 'colour,' 'favour,' 'labour' and 'neighbour.' Likewise, you will learn to spell 'doughnut' without skipping half the letters, and the suffix '-ize' will be replaced by '-ise.' Generally, you will all be expected to raise your vocabulary to acceptable UK levels. (look up 'vocabulary').

**
Using the same 27 words interspersed with filler noises such as 'like' and 'you know' and 'kinda' is an unacceptable and inefficient form of communicating. Please be aware that there's no such thing as American English. We shall let Microsoft know on your behalf. Microsoft's spell-checker will also be reprogrammed to take into account the reinstated letter 'u'' and the eradicating of '-ize.'

**
July 4th will no longer be celebrated as a holiday.

**
You will learn to resolve personal issues without using guns, lawyers, or therapists. The fact that you need so many lawyers and therapists shows that you are not ready to be independent. Guns should only be used for shooting grouse. If you can't sort things out without suing someone or speaking to a therapist, then you are not ready to shoot grouse.

**
You will no longer be allowed to own or carry anything more dangerous than a vegetable peeler. (Although a permit will be required if you wish to carry a vegetable peeler in public places).

**
All intersections will be replaced with roundabouts, and you will start driving on the left-hand side straight away. At the same time, you will go metric and without the benefit of conversion tables. Tackling both roundabouts and metrication will help you understand the British sense of humour.

**
Henceforth, the newly-annexed USA will need to adopt UK prices on petrol (which you have hitherto been calling 'gasoline') of roughly ten dollars minimum per US gallon. Get used to it.

**
In future, you will learn to make real chips. Those wizened things you call French fries are not real chips, and the things you insist on calling potato chips are called crisps. Authentic chips are thick-cut, deep-fried in animal fat, and dressed not with catsup but with vinegar.

**
The cold, tasteless stuff you insist on calling beer is not actually beer at all. In future, only genuine British Bitter will be referred to as beer. Any European brews of known and accepted provenance will be referred to as Lager. New Zealand beer is acceptable too, as New Zealand is pound for pound the greatest sporting nation on earth and this can only be due to the beer. They are also part of the British Commonwealth - look what it did for them. American 'beer' will in future be named Near-Frozen Gnat's Urine, so it can be sold without the risk of further confusion.

**
Hollywood will be required occasionally to have English actors cast in the roles of good guys, and will be required to use English actors to play English characters too. Watching Anne Hathaway attempt English dialogue in 'One Day' was an experience akin to having one's ears removed with a cheese grater.

**
You will no longer play American football. There are only two types of proper football; the one you call soccer, and the one called rugby (dominated by the exalted New Zealand team). Those of you courageous enough will, in due course, be permitted to play rugby (which has some similarities to American football, but does not involve stopping for a rest every twenty seconds or wearing full kevlar body armour like a bunch of nancies).

**
Furthermore, you will stop playing baseball too. It is infinitely ludicrous to host an event called the World Series for a game which is not played outside America. Since only 2.7% of you are aware that there is a world beyond your borders, your ignorance is completely understandable. You must learn cricket too, and we will let you compete with the world-famous Australian team first to take the sting out of their deliveries.

**
You must tell us who killed JFK, you meanies. It has been driving us mad.

**
An internal revenue agent (i.e. tax collector) from Her Majesty's Government will be coming to visit you imminently to ensure the immediate requisition of all monies due to the UK (backdated to July, Seventeen-seventy-six).

**
Daily Tea Time begins at 4 p.m. - not one minute more - using cups, with saucers (never mugs) with high quality biscuits (cookies); fine cakes; and the oh-so-glorious strawberries with cream, when in season.

**

God Save the Queen!

902

[Below is the translation of a poem by Paul Verlaine, anagrammed into another angle to the moon dealing with exploration with the special constraint, that all of the L's (for lunar) have been carefully arranged into a waning crescent moon.]

Your soul is as a moonlit landscape fair,
Peopled with maskers delicate and dim,
That play on lutes and dance and have an air
Of being sad in their fantastic trim.
The while they celebrate in minor strain
Triumphant love, effective enterprise,
They have an air of knowing all is vain,-
And through the quiet moonlight their songs rise,
The melancholy moonlight, sweet and lone,
That makes to dream the birds upon the tree,
And in their polished basins of white stone
The fountains tall to sob with ecstasy.

The One Outdoor Habitat

The heavy cosmos earns persons' attention
A neat world likes to go attract some men.
Soon I'll prevail and triumph an invention,
I shall go on and vanquish burdens then.
I will sight the untraced and cast a mark,
I will be happy, soothing, being there,
I will find out the mysteries in the dark,
It fills me up to paradise, no fear.
Faint allies seal me in the scope of smart.
Ahead, I slowly finish in the mirth.
With bravest eyes and dedicated heart,
I face the young enchantment of the Earth.

903

If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son.

If he can invent such a stunning mythology
With such motivation within exact lines.
If he subtly transforms it - our wry ideology,
Then he is Rudyard - a man so refined.

904

A Flea and a Fly

A flea and a fly flew up in a flue.
Said the flea, "Let us fly!"
Said the fly, "Let us flee!"
So they flew through a flaw in the flue.

Easy...

They flew full way to a leaf in a heath.
"Hello leaf!" said the fly,
"Useful leaf!" said the flea,
"We'll gladly stuff and puff fun in a tree!"

905

ROUTE 66
By
The Rolling Stones

Well if you ever plan to motor west
Just take my way that's the highway that's the best
Get your kicks on Route 66
Well it winds from Chicago to L.A.
More than two-thousand miles all the way
Get your kicks on Route 66

Well it goes from St Louis, down to Missouri
Oklahoma city looks oh so pretty
You'll see Amarillo and Gallup, New Mexico
Flagstaff, Arizona don't forget Winona
Kingsman, Barstow, San Bernadino

Would you get hip to this kindly tip
And go take that California trip
Get your kicks on Route 66
Well it goes from St. Louis, down to Missouri
Oklahoma city looks oh so pretty
You'll see Amarillo and Gallup, New Mexico
Flagstaff, Arizona don't forget Winona
Kingsman, Barstow, San Bernadino

Would you get hip to this kindly trip
And go take that California trip
Get your kicks on Route 66
Get your kicks on Route 66

WRINKLY GLOOM AT 66
Rusty Bones

You will find, folks, as you get on in years
All your parts start to shrink (except the ears)
No more kicks, at mid 66.
When you walk, you're aware of a strange wheeze,
Is it age or a fatal lung disease?
No more kicks, at mid 66.

You may go down with flu or pop to the loo more,
Wallow in your pity at reflux city,
So long in the tooth now, longin' for your youth now,
Recalling all those chances, wasted at school dances,
(Also in a telephone booth... truth!)

Your back locks when walking in a park,
You cough and it sounds just like a bark,
It's the pits, at mid 66.
Getting old, it's a bummer, losing life's Summer,
Stark, foggy days, off walkin in a daze,
Talkin' to the old gents, gripin' 'bout your ailments.
Prostate, foot-rot, ringworm, liver-spots.

Look out, you don't know what it will hit,
It's too late to go all out to get fit;
No more kicks, at mid 66,
I forgot... am I 66?

906

All Along The Watchtower

There must be some way out of here," said the joker to the thief
"There's too much confusion, I can't get no relief

Businessmen, they drink my wine, plowmen dig my earth
None of them along the line know what any of it is worth"

"No reason to get excited," the thief, he kindly spoke
"There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke

But you and I, we've been through that, and this is not our fate
So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late"

All along the watchtower, princes kept the view
While all the women came and went, barefoot servants, too

Outside in the distance a wildcat did growl
Two riders were approaching, the wind began to howl

Without Sun a Shadow Awoke

"Keep it secret! Keep it safe!", said the warlock to the thief
Faint runes glowed fiery menace when they watched in disbelief

One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them

"But you can't axe Precious, or give it to elves
Why how do we know they don't want it for themselves?"

"May we reject its woe, my friend, ought not be hostage to its hate
We must be to Karningul then, the hour it is late"

All along the Black Gate, a foul Eye watched the line
When all the orcs ran afoot, ahoof howl ringwraiths nine

Past towers and ungoliant, two major heroes crept
Who hasten to the mount of doom, while the Eye slept

907

The Owl And The Pussy-Cat.

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat;
They took some honey, and plenty of money
Wrapped up in a five-pound note.

The Owl looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
"O lovely Pussy, O Pussy my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are, you are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!"

Pussy said to the Owl "You elegant fowl,
How charmingly sweet you sing!
Oh! let us be married; too long we have tarried:
But what shall we do for a ring?"

They sailed away, for a year and a day,
To the land where the bong-tree grows.
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood,
With a ring at the end of his nose, his nose,
With a ring at the end of his nose.

"Dear pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling
your ring? " Said the Piggy "I will."
So they took it away and were married next day
By the Turkey who lives on the hill.

They dined on mince and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon;
And hand in hand on the edge of the sand
They danced by the light of the moon, the moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.

"Now that we're wed and together in bed" Owl said,
"Your sweet pussy I long to see!"
"Miaow!" she purred! "Oh! You dirty old bird!"
"My sweet pussy's so sweet, tee-hee!"

But how does an owl and a cat make love,
When together with feathers and fur?
A shot in a show? But I really don't know!
They tried to make love! They tried, and tried,
Until both of them nearly died!!

"Oh!" said he, "I can't do nowt and feel shagged out!"
"Your sweet pussy I can't get in!"
"Miaow! Miaow!" cried Puss, and wailed
"You impotent fowl with that pin!"

Sleeping together and no sex got tough;
Then Pussy-Cat yelled "Enough is enough!"
Oh! Yelling is telling! Telling and felling!
Feathers flying about! Feathers flying about!
And the poor bird in the nest got it rough, so rough.

This tale of the Owl and the Pussy-Cat ends
On a note rather sad in a boat.
They in their remorse soon got a divorce
And they again sailed away, afloat.

Yeah, away! Yeah yeah! Owl, poor loving owl,
Had no quick roll in the hay, hay hay.
Oh! Puppy love fun! Oh! Puppy love, oh!
Funny maybe? Oh, Boy! Funny maybe?
As each sail hence, away, away.

908

OCTOBER IN NEW ZEALAND
Jessie Mackay

O JUNE has her diamonds, her diamonds of sheen,
Meet for a queen’s neck, if Death had e'er a queen!
June has her blue days, jewels of delight,
Set in the ivory of Alp-land white,-
But October, October's the lady o' the year!

O January's garland is redder than the rose,
And the wine-red ruby of January glows
All the way to madness and half the way to sin,
When sleep is in the poppy and fire is in the whin!
But October, October's the lady o' the year!

October will ride in a mantle o' the vair,
With the flower o' the quince in her dew-wet hair;
October will ride to the gates of the day,
With the bluebells ringing on her maiden way;-
For October, October’s the lady o' the year!

OCTOBER IN GERMANY

Thrilled to be uninhibited, then plainly juiced;
We're gathered in here to get real boozed!
See that friendly fraulein offering the jollies?
Damn, her front just as healthy as Dolly's!
Yep, October, October's the season o' the beer!

While we're happy and enthralled, enjoying old Munich,
The whole Schweinebraten may make you sick.
Down the hundredth Weisswurst I dare ya!
A horrid queasy stomach in northern Bavaria?
When October, October's the season o' the beer!

Dehydrated yesterday, I had quite enough;
Need some anyway at Wienerwald Hall to quaff.
He, a jovial fellow, said, "Want a joint?"
"A whiff?" I drawled, "What's the point?"
If October, October's the season o' the beer!

909

THE GHOST OF A FLOWER
by anonymous

"You're what?" asked the common or garden spook
Of a stranger at midnight's hour.
And the shade replied with a graceful glide,
"Why, I'm the ghost of a flower."

"The ghost of a flower?" said the old-time spook;
"That's a brand-new one on me;
I never supposed a flower had a ghost,
Though I've seen the shade of a tree."

Tree? Huh? Has the poor haunter seen any of these appear:

Ethereal moonlit night shadow;
A full floodlit light shadow;
Serenader in the grove shadow;
Fated turkey in the stove shadow
Youngster's cotton legging shadow;
Farmyard mouse begging shadow;
Homemaker coffeepot shadow;
Home baker toffee spot shadow.

910

Chris
Meaning: Special

You bring so many
Unique talents to bear
You really are special
And truly do care
Your touch is golden
You have that flair
For devising creations
That demand such care
You'll always be prized
As a gem so rare
As long as your talents
You promise to share

Crass
Nominal praise

Some people say it's lazy
A bland collective hug
Buy a cheery article
A dreary yearly shrug
Real unfancy poetry
Anodyne as any drug
Not clever or audacious
Or so horrid as a slug
It is not a question
Of whether I am smug
It has to be true
It's all done on a mug!