The Jubilee, the Diamond Jubilee,
Oh God , that’s great, that’s smasheroo,
Get out the flags, the bunting, the streets
Of England, up and down, in every town,
Are celebrating this great day,
The trestle tables laid, the cakes are baked,
Kids are shouting, dads are pissed,
And yes, s’not raining, no not yet,
Oh thank you God for blessing this great day
This Jubilee, the Diamond Jubilee,
For on this day, this blessed day,
We kneel, we cry, we pray, yes pray
And say, oh thank you Lord, yes thank you God.,
That’s what we want to say, from every mouth
In this great British land we join
Together, linking hands and beery breath
Chatting to our neighbours, yes!
The first time ever that we spoke together,

Though saw you in the aisles of Waitrose
Yes, from time to time, but now
Yes now upon this Diamond Jubilee
We show our rotten teeth and smile
Oh yes, we smile and say, have a sausage mate
Let’s celebrate this great and glorious day,
The barbecue is smoking nicely, kids are jumping
Like one great ‘lectric current from John O’ Groats
To old Southend does link us all,
Yes all of us, us British through and through
The Union Jack flows through our veins
And VAT-free pasties line our guts,
And Tesco’s drumsticks scorch and crackle
A million chickens bit the dust that day,

That precious day, that Diamond day
And Cumberland sausages pop and crack
To celebrate those sixty glorious years
When our great glorious Queen bestrode the throne
Get cracking duck, your old man’s now brown bread,
So get your sweet bum on that throne, my dear
And yes, for sixty splendid years you sat,
Smashed champagne bottles onto new-born ships,
Opened hospitals and welcomed dodgy prats
From far-off lands and made them feel at home,
To show, we know, oh yes, we know
They torture their own people, kill off dissidents
But look, we bear no grudges, ‘cause
They’ve also got a crown upon their head.

So let’s forget all that this day,
This once and special day, this Diamond day,
And put an armada on the smoky Thames,
A cavalcade of everything that floats,
Barges, worn-out tugboats, ships with sails,
Fluttering a joyous welcome on the wind,
Whilst you, yes you, our glorious Majesty,
Sail down between them, Boadicea,
On your golden craft that slides
Between the naughty choppy little waves,
Each wave bowing as you pass,
In all your splendour, all your dignity
Standing upright with your stalwart bloke Prince Phil
Not sitting on your blood-red thrones oh no,
You’re made of sterner stuff than that,
By God, you’re made of England’s blood and soil,
So grit those pale grey teeth and bear the biting cold,
Whilst all the nation’s gripping plastic flags,
Stand and wave and wave and stand,
All straining just for a peek, bladders bursting
‘Where’s the bloody loos?’ No matter,
Here’s our radiant, blessed, glorious Queen,
‘Oh look, by heck she’s waving to us,
Yes she moves an arm from side to side,’
And tried so valiantly to smile,
But God, it’s hard, it’s hard to stretch those lips,
Into a semblance of a grin…

Imagine if you will, her view,
The sight of all those thousands of bobbing heads
Rain-dashed and bitter cold, yet chanting
Those old and moving patriotic songs
About a land of hope and glory…
Shedding even then some salty tears,
Whilst heaving up their guts in the stewy Thames
Who could smile, yes, who could force, even a grin,
Ramrod straight she stands, will not be moved
Frozen like a marble obelisk
While Phillip’s dying to take a piss…

But you, oh people of glorious England,
Fastened to your TV screens like flies
That buzz around some rancid meat.
Hoping, yes hoping that against all odds,
Her majesty our darling Queen,
Will grace us with a trembling nod,
And please, oh please ma, just a smile – Oh yes! Just that,
Would cause the sullen sun to hide,
His face, for how could he compare,
Yes how, to her majesties radiant smile, so fair

But still, yes still she thrusts right through
Old father Thames, where even now
A salmon might point its nose, so pink
And not shrink away with horror at the stink
Since it’s now almost (but not quite) fit to drink
But still, gallantly she stands and stares,
And still her smile is masked by thoughtful clouds
The nation, standing, waving, shrieking, hoping
That any moment that great beam will come
Those wine red lips will part and then, yes then
Her smile will break the nation’s heart.

The well-wrapped BBC chaps fasten TV lens
They must not miss, that moment, that moment
Of sheer bliss when she conveys to all of us
The love she feels for all, the rich and stinking poor.
And so keen are they to view the sight
On which a hundred TV lens are trained
That now, in innocence and faith,
They start to make up what she feels
‘Oh look’ they say, how happy she seems, our Queen
‘Oh look’ they gasp, she seems so pleased,
‘I do believe a smile escaped her lips’
‘Oh yes, oh yes, I’m sure it was, weren’t you?’

Of course it was, or was it just a shadow that fell,
But no matter, now it’s over and this Diamond day
Is done, this once and special day is printed
On our minds for evermore, this day –
And when we’re old and grey we’ll tell
Our children, tell them, seated by the fireside
We saw the Queen of England on her barge
Like Cleopatra on the Nile and at the end
She gave us all one great ginormous smile.


Steven Berkoff  2012

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