Oh, what a dream it was!
I had been standing idly
at the gate called Buckingham,
the Palace was engulfed
in British Dew, so gray
when suddenly, how strange,
two corgy dogs came at me growling.
In an evasive, quick manoeuvre
I entered royal territory,
a carriage driven by the Queen
devoured body, soul and spirit.
'I must be dead', the thought occurred,
a yellow light was playing sweetly
with four full-grown and horny moths.
The Prince was bandaging my ankle
and for my soul my head was cradled
within the lap of a stout maiden.
She stroked my hair, then kissed my cheek
and spoke exotic English,
I understood, I'd be alright
if not they would be sorry
and give command to have a wake
a burial with full honours
she smelled so nice and looked so young
her perfume is called Ambush.
And when Camilla mentioned 'Wake',
I sat up in my bed,
and, realising what's at stake
I'm glad I am not yet dead.
Herbert Nehrlich
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/camilla-and-charles/
