The Royalist

Close to heaven
I saw a kite fly high
By wind driven
It glided in the sky
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Bedecked with bright colours
I lounge on the decking
Waiting for my discoverer
Waiting, anticipating
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The ice-cream van airs out a merry chime
I buy my sundae and bask in the summertime
On a deckchair I recline
My ear hears the sound of a whirring whine
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For crimes of lust against his fellow man
Wilde had got his come-uppance
Celled sardined with varied beasts
His life was not worth tuppence
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First you need to buy in the dough
And then you heel it, toe it or knead it
And if it doesn’t hula in a circular machine
Throw a gay Gordon Ramsay fit ‘til it fits
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