Passed Over Again

Passed Over Again

I’ve waited in all day, pacing up and down,

Hoping that the telephone would ring,

That some flunkey from Buckingham palace

Some long-expected news would bring.

 

I’d counted on a proper letter at first,

Coming through Her Majesty’s Royal Mail:

Cream envelope, thick embossed writing -

But that route appears to have failed.

 

Morning after morning, nothing on the mat,

Time getting short as we come up to the date,

Perhaps lost in the post or delivered elsewhere,

I’m on tenterhooks to discover my fate.

 

After all - I am a firm monarchist,

A believer in our great constitution,

And I’ve been a good chap now for long enough,

So it’s time to recognise my contribution.

 

For outstanding services to my country,

I’m wondering what my honour will be:

So many types and levels to choose from -

Might it be an OBE or MBE?

 

I can just see my name up on the list,

You see, I’ve always fancied a knight-hood:

Some sort of title would distinguish me -

“Sir Andy Fawthrop” will look pretty good.

 

But there is no point printing new stationery,

Nor ordering any new business cards,

Until we’ve settled on the right handle,

Then I’ll be a knight amongst bards!

 

I can see me going to the palace,

For my investiture with the Queen,

Then photos outside with the medal,

My face all over the press will be seen.

 

I’ll be gently famous and renowned,

I’ll sign autographs whenever I‘m able,

And merely mentioning my name,

Will secure any restaurant table.

 

And people will whisper reverently,

When my personage is passing them by,

Speaking of my modest achievements,

And asking themselves the main question: Why? 

 

I mean, obviously, why not them?

Well – honours are reserved for the cream!

If they just gave them to everyone,

How do you think that that would seem?

 

…..But hang on a second – what’s just happened?

The full list’s been announced on the BBC!

There’s nothing in there for services to poetry -

There’s to be no Honour for me!

 

Surely there’s been some mistake?

It seems, yet again, I’ve been overlooked,

I’ve been looking forward all over Christmas,

But now it seems my goose has been cooked.

 

Of course I’m not bitter – how could I be?

It’s an anachronistic system of State,

Discredited rewards for old cronies!

I wouldn’t want one of those, mate!

 

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2021