To Any Passing Critic
In opting for a blacker grey
With floor-length skirt and neckline high
Her majesty appears to say
That those who suffer 'neath her sway
Are certain soon to die
Unless they have an alibi
Whom none can well gainsay
Her royal highness, once a week,
Before the wardrobe-master's eye
Will rarefy her gaunt physique
In fashion odious and oblique
As languid hours pass by
And darkness quells the greying sky
And scrapes the blushing cheek
| Contributors: | Roland, TG. |
| Poem finished: | 15th November 2005 by loaf. |