Young Queen Poem by Paul Reed

Surrounded by prancing Whig and Tory
(Some of whom thought they were witty)
We are being told young Victoria's story
But did she really look that pretty?

Queen V. is dependent upon ‘Lord M.'
For guidance and general advice
Which he dispenses with great acumen
But despite having repeated it twice

Vic elects to completely ignore
And sets out her own chosen stall
Discarding the words of one who's been there before
Got the T-shirt and seen it all;

The inevitable outcome of such youthful vigour
Through not electing the right way to go
Not testing one's thoughts first with rigour
'Sorry, Vicky, but I told you so'.