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The gilt-edged invitation came And I said "What can this mean? To attend the coronation As the first guest of the Queen And sit upon her right hand Where the Prince is normally seen?" The maids of honour stared at me And registered surprise To see a man of such good taste Appear before their eyes Now bring rather humble I adopted a disguise As the Minister of State For Mass Environment Controls Who condemn the working classes For inhabiting the holes That belong to Queen and Country But do not permit their souls To be free like me. The perspex chandelier Began to melt and slip away One million candle-powered It kept the night at bay While the power station workers Were busy making hay The workers in the fields Were engaged in self-defence Which involved the use of barbed wire As a self-containing fence But as a means of self-protection It was needlessly immense I stopped to ask them for a light They pointed at the sun Which raised their hopes of harvesting A better crop than guns Can ever mass produce At the expense of anyone Who is free like me. The solitary peasant In his home above the lake Raised high on wooden stilts Has made the singular mistake Of revolutionary conduct At the celebration wake His urban counterpart Engaged in mundane occupation Enjoys the chance of laughing At the Queen's humiliation At the hands of Ministers of State For Rehabilitation Now the power station worker Though his aim is too disjointed Finds himself around the corner While his gun is never pointed He is ever at the ready He desires to be annointed And be free like me. |
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