Camilla, Camilla, that rhymes with "Godzilla"
(though Charles does not rhyme with "Rodan").
She'll step on some walls, then she'll sit on St. Paul's
and breath fire--at least that's the plan.
When Hank had his wedding he had a beheading
or two, plus a wife with three tits.
But how, hear her cry, can she upstage poor Di
who the public beloved into bits?
Let her weep, let her wail, for her gala will pale
when compared with the virginal bride.
But the nuptial bed? Well she's once before wed
and in that she'll at least take some pride.

Charles and Camilla Parker Bowles
have always been compatible souls

and except for Diana’s brief appearance
their carryings-on haven’t brooked interference.

Now that it seems the Church and the Queen
have committed not to intervene,

the two will marry at long last
in the ceremony Cupid forecast.

So give a “Hip! Hip!” and “Hip!” once again;
let’s cheer for them both, “God Save the Twain!”

Apologies for vulgarity and the likely muddling up of church law and terminology.

--

Before you're married according to the Codex,
Charles, do you still want to be her Kotex?

------------------
Steve Schroeder

With this epithalamium
We praise Camilla Parker Bowles
(Now Princess Consort to the proles)
Whom, truth be told, is not as dumb
As Lady Di; and has oft come
To comfort Charles with hot, sweet rolls
And scones and clotted cream. The polls
All show it's safe, and so his mum
Applauds an anus horribilis -
Lets him wed his amaryllis.
May dear Camilla e'er evince,
Great pleasure with her Tampon Prince.



[This message has been edited by Michael Cantor (edited February 13, 2005).]

You don't know the half of it! I discovered this on a BBC News item on the very day of the engagement:

"Prince Charles admitted he had been unfaithful to Diana on a television programme with reporter Jonathan Dimbleby."

What next, I wonder?

What next?

Wearing the Royal Trousers

The democratic boardroom
is often led by proxy;
Camilla Parker-Bowles prefers
a kingdom ruled by doxy.



[This message has been edited by Jerry Glenn Hartwig (edited February 13, 2005).]

EREME -

You know whereof you you write. The following poem draft was found crumpled in the back seat of the Royal Bentley, according to former Footman and Bearer of the Silver Scepter, Anthony Murchison, in his book, I'll Say Anything for Money

Watching Dimbleby
nimbly
bend;
tenderly,
slenderly,
spend;
is simperly,
the end.

A prince, however hard he tries
Grows crabby without exercise.
Our prince is anything but fat,
Which is not to be wondered at…
He gets what exercise he can,
(Why!, sometimes right there on the ottoman!)
And never ever seems to lack
The energy to clamber back.

But do you think it worries him
That the world mocks his, er, private whim?
Oh, no, now Camilla's parked and bowled Queen's rules out
He’s proud of his monarchial flout.


(With acknowledgement to A A Milne, adapted from “Teddy Bear”, S1, and closing S13)




[This message has been edited by Seree Zohar (edited February 15, 2005).]

Who gives a piss
about the Prince
or his Kotex Miss—

The Chemistry of a Royal Wedding

Nature abhors a vacuum:
With ionic stubbornness
These two nuclei attract,
To fill their outlying empty shells
With the other’s negative energy.


Been spending too much time teaching my son the basics of the atom



[This message has been edited by Jerry Glenn Hartwig (edited February 15, 2005).]