I doubt you’ll need me to narrate
The duties of the Oveate –
By which, as Poet to the Queen,
I adumbrate the regal scene,
And celebrate in verse and stanzas,
The more outlandish Royal Bonanzas.
For which, by centuries-old Decree,
I munch her far-flung pastures free,
Delighting in the ageless status
Of Keeper of the Monarch’s Gaiters.
So, fresh from having penned another
Paean for some Queenly Mother,
I must, before the ink is dry,
Start again for Charles and Di,
Assured by Laureate, Sir John,
He feels in no way put-upon,
He’ll no doubt spin the needful rhyme
For what’s to come in nine-months’ time.
Meanwhile lets get the Cotswolds humming
Some ovine epithalamiumings .
( from ‘Bertie at the Royal Wedding’ )