Queen Elizabeth I Visits Merseyside in 1949

Where are they now, the good citizens of Crosby

who greeted me with such warmth and favour?

The cockle wenches who sprinkled rose petals before my feet?

The soldiers of the Royal Guard?

Where are they now, my faithful courtiers?

Lord Gloucester, fat as a globe, who stumbled

when bowing low, sending his cap spinning

across the lawn like a blue velvet frisbee.

Where the roll of parchment upon which

I had written my speech? Lop-sided throne,

newly painted and sticky to the touch?

Whither the groundlings, my faithful retainers?

Whither the voice unbroken, the cheeks unshaved?

Where is Miss Allen, who tried in vain

to teach me how to act like a monarch?

‘Head up, Roger, speak slowly and clearly.’

And amdrams later, after all those schoolboys

dressed as girls, the real thing in my arms.

The stage set and a full moon. ‘Head up, Roger.’

Another lead role, another lead balloon.