Her Majesty (God bless her...)
Look, Philip – here it comes. Dead March, trundle-trundle. Waste of resources? Waste of horses! Ooh - wicked thought. Wish one had had the foresight to tell it to one’s Marines. Last-minute change, lads. Special request from your commander-in-chief. Our little secret. Bit of Beethoven, just to get it a-going, then straight into Bonnie Dundee. Kipling knew - by the brand on my withers, the finest of tunes… Triple time. King’s Troop regimental canter. The way of the Warhorse... Bliss! And - off she goes! Hurrah!
No stopping her now. It’s what she would have wanted, eh, Philip?
Note. Sounds best read aloud - in The Voice...
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