In theme with the "Trooping of the Colour"
"The AB Royal Castle" - DTC Adapt. of Edwin Muir, 2003
All through that Lore summer pizzed as a newt we lay,
And daily from the Randy-Raven turret wall
LadyAlex watched the ABers a-frolicking in the DaisyNonna hay
And the Eds and Mods o’er half a mile away
seemed no censor’s threat to us at all.
For what, the Lady thought, had we to fear
With our Mamya and TTFN, load on load, (hic)
Our towering bottle-shelves, tier on tier,
And friendly Craft drawing near
On every shady Ummmm’ers road.
Count-a-Strong full of Hopkirk beer
Was on the AB Road, Dottie’s truck a brimming full
The Rowanwitch’s on guard duty, Sandyroe’s at the wagon rear
Albaqwerty running as a rabid Suzy bull
Like a Welsh Naz or Trim, the DTC sheep were surely here.
Our gates were Pixi strong, our walls were AOG thick,
So Gran’ and Jemma high as kites, no Ed or Mod could win
A Boo foothold there, no clever Mick
Could take us, and have us maverick quick.
Only a bibblebub or oldred could have got their crosswords in.
What could they offer us for RedHelen bait?
Our Alexandered was brave and we were true....
There was a little private Carnalee’s gate,
A little Sqad wicket gate.
The wizened Starbuck let them through.
Oh then our maze of JoggerJayne bathroom stone
Grew Purdie thin and Geezer-full of air.
The cause was a drunken Postdog with a groan,
The famous AB pub had been overthrown,
And all its secret Yelenots cellars laid bare.
How can this dreadful Dotty tale be told?
Tamborine will maintain until death
Madeup could do nothing, being micmak sold;
Our only friend other than Boxtops was AB gold,
And we had just fifty