Changing The Guard by Julian Isaacs

They’re not changing guard at Buckingham Palace

Just in case Isis goes down with Alice

 

The nodding halberdier in the sentry box

Spits in the sand at his feet, disconsolate

The coiled cur in the gutter

Flicks his tarry tail, disinterested

American tourists take only photographs

And not responsibility, selfishies

The soldier’s Guards cigarette has gone out

Leaving only burns on his bare skin, contaminated

A curtain twitches behind the balcony

As an elderly ungentleman fires up his doner home grill, besieged

Rotten Row’s gone truly Billy Cotton

But this is no show for the band

It’s humanity’s last stand

 

Honour, laud and glory have all gone gory

At least Michael Fagan was only there for a spot of Jackanory

They’re not changing guard at Buckingham Palace

Just in case Isis turns up with Alice