Andrew Vasey

Albert's quite an old man now,
He's nearly eighty-three,
And his grandson, Joe, said, "Grandad,
Let's go up to t'Jubilee."
Albert said, "Yer jokin' -
I can't stand about all day."
But Joe said, "Nonsense, Grandad,
You'll love it, I should say.
We'll take along yer walkin' stick,
And a cushion or a piller,
We'll find a seat along the Thames
To watch that there flotilla."
Albert thought the Jubilee
Was just a load of rot,
But to please his eager grandson, Joe,
He said, "Alright, why not?!"
So there they were beside the Thames,
The boats and stuff to see,
With all their flags and bunting
In a show of pageantry.
Old Albert got excited
As Her Majesty drew near;
He climbed up on the parapet
To give a lusty cheer.
Alas, his legs were tottery,
And somewhat of a quiver -
Before he knew it he had gone
And fallen in the river.
It happened that the Queen had turned
To look in that direction -
"Captain, save that drowning man -
No time for circumspection!"
The Captain quickly changed his course,
And willing hands reached out,
Pulling Albert and his stick aboard,
A sorry sight, no doubt.
Reader, may I ask you
To picture such a scene -
A wet, bedraggled Albert
Is brought before the Queen?
"Your name, my man?" she asked of him,
With dignity and charm,
"It's Albert, luv," he answered,
Quickly adding, "I mean, Ma'am."
"Albert, such a noble name,"
She pondered, briefly glum,
Then: "I see the handle of your stick
Is of an equine cranium.
Are you the self-same Albert,
Immortalised in verse,
Took on a lion in Blackpool Zoo,
And came orf far the worse?"
Albert said that it was true;
Said the Queen, with eyes aglow,
"One loves the poems of your life -
One's read them all, you know."
Albert stood there, dripping wet,
With modesty and pride,
As Liz told him to step right up
And kneel down by her side.
She took his stick, and, as he knelt,
She touched his shoulders lightly:
"Arise, Sir Albert," then she said,
Quite stately and politely,
"One's always thought for dubbing,
A sword can't hold a candle
To an implement like this I hold -
A stick with an 'orse's 'ead 'andle!"

Return to
Monologues Home
Music Hall Home
The Forum
Pencil Portraits
Pedro Postcards
Amazon Store