[John Whitworth]

Interestingly, King Lear supplied a model for two of today's winners, one being the redoubtable Bill Greenwell. I won (with prose much to my surprise and delight) with A A Milne and there was The Wind in the Willows also represented - ah the reading matterof today's pensioners when they were children!

Wendy Cope wrote something that would do here - in her first book I think.

NO. 2722: occasional verse
You are invited to supply an all-purpose poem for state occasions (16 lines max). Please email entries, if possible, to lucy@spectator.co.uk by midday on 9 November.

[Roger Slater]

Congrats, John. I knew you could be prosaic if you tried.

Why are the words "BANNED POST" surrounding the email address (at least for me)? Likes so: toBANNED POSTlucy@spectator.co.ukBANNED POST

[John Whitworth]

I don't know. They were over the whole thing till I took them out. I'll take this one out too. Thanks for the congrats.

[Lance Levens]

Good work, John!

[John Whitworth]

Thank you, Lance. Now here's my Occasional.


Occasional

State occasions are truly enticing
To ordinary birds and their blokes.
We rejoice at a birth or a splicing,
We are sad when a VIP croaks.

We worship the sight and the sound
Of the nobs in their coaches and carriages
Who are most of the time to be found
At Fortnum & Mason or Claridges.

At the end of the day we 'll be pissed,
Which will make the occasion Right Royal,
And a Union Jack in each fist
Just shows we are frightfully loyal.

And frightfully loyal we are,
We were and we ever shall be.
The monarchy wins the cigar
'Cos a monarch is our cup of tea.

[Martin Parker]

Whatever the weather, at all State events
we wait in our thousands, excitement intense,
for the chance of a glimpse of a well-practised smile
affixed to its owner for mile after mile,
for the clatter of horses, the thrill of the band
and the minimal wave from a royal white-gloved hand.
No matter we’re stuck at the back of the crowd
and can see very little we’re all of us proud
of the stage-managed grandeur and bling by the ton --
Ruritanian pomp in its fast-setting sun,
a relic of times when our monarchs were head
of a globe mainly coloured a comforting red
where folk of all creeds and all colours would sing
God Save who we’d told them would now be their King.

[Susan d.S.]

Congratulations on Milne, much enjoyed.

[FOsen]

No matter one’s political persuasion,
There is a simple question one should ask:
What can a poem bring to this occasion?
For here, the poet has a sacred task—
No less, than when you lay you down to bed,
At last, long hours hence, to get some rest,
Momentous words still ringing in your head,
With bleary eye and swollen breast,
From luminaries who’ve expended breath
Recounting our great wisdom and our strength,
With pride and better nature done to death
As speakers perorated on at length
In public celebration or in grief—
That you not blame the poet, who was brief.

Frank

[Jerome Betts]

Hmm, trying to interpet the rubric 'all-purpose'.

The months advancing, it is time
To mark with pomp and solemn rhyme
A certain quite momentous date
Records the Calendar of State.

Soon, gathered in an ancient church,
The great no scandal may besmirch
Who right our wrongs, or guard our limbs,
Will hear wise words and stirring hymns,

Outside once more, they will process
In every type of formal dress
Between the crowds who line the way
Such leading figures take today.

In sun, or wind, or fog, or rain,
Our national pride will shine again,
Until, this grand occasion done,
We celebrate another one.

[Susan d.S.]

Yanks are at a disadvantage here! With apologies to British sensibilities (sort of):

The Argument:

None do a state occasion better than the Brits,
pomp, aplomb, and circumstance: a royal regnant sits.
Just one thing is missing when they break into song--
God save the Queen, but she cannot sing along.
In tiara, specs, and pearls, she simply glumly stares,
while all sing to save her; it seems she’s unawares.
So your cousins across the pond came up with something new,
a ditty strong and rousing, and inclusive of her, too.
At the next state occasion, all should simply sing:
God save the people! From dales, hills and towns,
And God, please, especially save all ladies wearing crowns.
The beauty of this all-rounder is that Lizzy can join in.