To This Nation
To this nation, wherein hubris and hypocrisy
Disguise our deficits of democracy
The Queen is dead, long live the King
Must we now his praises sing?
From whom or what must he be saved?
In what blessèd water has he been bathed?
We ask his god to save the crown
As if a divinity should thus bow down
In perpetuation of many a royal fable
Wherein the monarch is willing and able
To deny himself all worldly passions
And refuse to bend to mere mortal fashions
A man above all men
Even those who claim to be born again
Defender of the faith, for what that’s worth
Giver of titles to the noble by birth
Supporter of a system so obscure
That all others are cast as somewhat impure
Never explained by any economic utility
The quest for the rational an absolute futility
Will he agree to pay taxes as other citizens do
Or help feed the many before the few?
Yet he expects this austerity state to pay
For outlandish pursuits from another day
Which are supposed to never be called in question
Unworthy be he who may make the suggestion
That there’s a better way to choose heads of state
Than confiding the task to spermatozoic fate
The mysterious magic of the first-born son
Must be, over time, by the people undone
So, to advise other nations on their deficits of democracy
Is such subtle, shameful hubris and hypocrisy