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A Poem for the Royal Baby
The guns sound out in salute, the bells ring out in the air,
The royal Duchess of Cambridge has given birth to an heir!
Prince William and Kate are overjoyed and blissfully happy
They have their longed-for offspring – in a clean white nappy!
Welcome to the world baby boy, as at your mother’s breast you feed
You’ve been born into wealth and privilege, and will never encounter need.
Third in line to the British throne, weighing 8 pounds and 6 ounces,
Delivered July 22 at 4.24 pm, the breathless Press announces.
“The birth of a Prince, our future monarch!” the tabloid headlines scream
While in blissful ignorance you close your eyes and dream.
You have nothing to disturb you, your future has been planned
You’re one of the House of Windsor, the rulers of the land.
One day of 16 countries you’ll become Head of State,
Including Australia and Canada and Britain the Great.
The Head of the Commonwealth, of the Church, Governor Supreme.
But that’s all in the future, the pomp, honour and esteem.
Right now you’re just a baby, you know nothing of the world,
Only your mother’s closeness as at her breast you lie curled.
You have yet to learn of money and the power of the rich
For you life’ll be a bowl of cherries, for others it’s a bitch.
Although from a family neither aristocratic nor royal,
Your mummy too has never known hardship or toil.
Of upper middle class background, free from pecuniary cares
Her parents, ex flight staff Mike and Carole, are multi-millionaires.
You’ll get to see them often, but all of that’s to come.
And you’ll get to know Aunt Pippa, famous for her bum.
Not to mention Kate’s Uncle Gary and his Maison de Bang Bang.
(Maybe parties there in future with your elite little gang?)
Mum passes you to Prince William, who holds you gently in his hands
– Your Daddy who’s worth 40 million in investments, inheritance and lands.
As well as a Prince, he’s a Baron, Earl and Duke,
He pats you on your back as you have a quiet puke.
Yeah, forget the Middletons. The Windsors is the family that counts
For bringing in money and power in large amounts.
You’ve only been out of the womb a few hours since
And already you’ve been made of Cambridge the Prince!
You’ve already beat your Uncle Harry in line to the throne,
Just three deaths to come before it’s your own.
But playboy Harry need shed no tear,
He already makes 25 million a year.
Before your daddy, there’ll be funny Grandad Charlie as King
Crowned in Westminster Abbey with all that pomp and bling.
He’s been destined to be monarch from the moment of his birth.
And if daddy’s makes 40 million – what’s grandaddy worth?
With a property of 300 million pounds, he’s certainly a man of means,
But as he says: “So much I do is done behind the scenes.”
It’s rumored he’s the head of a rich organization called Foundation X,
Funded by banks, market manipulation and government lending excess.
He’s also said to have had an influence on many a government minister
With his secret ‘black spider memos’ giving advice in writing sinister.
On a different matter, another dark secret as yet to unravel
Is Prince Charles’ close friendship with paedo rapist Jimmy Saville.
By the way, that’s not your real grandma, the blonde woman by his side
Her name’s Camilla, Duchess of Cornwall, and she’s his second bride.
Your real grandma was Princess Diana, killed in a car crash in France.
Some say that the accident was planned and not just matter of chance.
But, ah! Here’s your great grandma! Her Highness Elizabeth, the ruler
She’s worth 44 billion. Could anything be cooler?
She’s the pinnacle of the Constitution,
Her face on every banknote – a living institution!
Judges, police and armed forces pledge allegiance to the Crown.
She’s the apex of aristocracy, of wealth and renown.
She has say when to begin and end wars
And one day my boy this power will be yours!
But what of the people you’re eventually to rule?
You should know about them to not look a fool.
Your birth is an important moment in the life of our nation
What about the people, and what’s their situation?
Well, while your pampered royal family sit cozy on their butts
The people of Britain suffer vicious drastic cuts
Benefits stopped, services scrapped, a state of dire recession
While the fawning Press focus adoring eyes on the third in line to succession.
Thousands sleep homeless on the street
Children don’t have enough to eat
Prices rise, wages go down
A smile is rarer than a frown.
Things are so bad for many that they’re almost unendurable
And yet don’t forget that they’re far from incurable.
All of this misery and want could be easily erased
With just half the money the Royals have saved.
Against this unfairness there’s only one solution
The people must unite and have a revolution.
So, New Born Royal Baby, I pray your first words be –
Loud and clear now, let me hear – “Abolish the Monarchy!”
Michael Dickinson can be contacted at his website .