Oct 2015
The Albert Mall was a narrow street
Named after the dying prince,
Where Queen Victoria donned the rags
Of a widow, ever since.
She’d sat outside in her royal Coach
And been heard to mutter, ‘Why?’
While Albert did what he had to do,
What he had to do was die!
And we came by when the Queen was dead
When the Mall was quite forgot,
To rent a room where the prince had died
If we’d known, we’d rather not.
The Mall was grubby and cheap by then
So we thought we’d make it do,
I asked Marie if she didn’t mind
And she said, ‘It’s up to you.’
It seems the room had been empty then
By the choking layers of dust,
I said, ‘Shall I let it blow outside?’
And Marie said, ‘If you must.’
It took us days just to clear the air
And to have a look around,
In some of the ancient furniture
You can imagine what we found.
The robe held some of the smartest clothes
I think, that we’d ever seen,
I said as much to Marie, ‘that dress
You’d swear, was fit for a queen,
And there, a suit for a gentleman
With a full blown grey Top Hat,
I said to Marie, ‘Shall we try them on,’
And she said, ‘Let’s do just that.’
So then on the eve of Michaelmas
We stood by the mirror there,
Arrayed in the best of formal gear
They called Victorian wear,
And music drifted up through the floor
From the ballroom down below,
While I, in a moment of madness
Blurted out, ‘Well, shall we go?’
We made our way to the music by
Descending a curving stair,
And finding a throng of dancers who
Were dressed the way we were,
Then someone called out ‘Her Majesty,’
And the music stayed and died,
While they all stared at Marie and bowed,
Made me feel queer inside.
I swear that they only saw the clothes,
They didn’t see us two,
And they were a shade ephemeral,
I could see right through them, too,
They went right back to their dancing
While we sat on an ottoman,
Whispering what were our chances if
We just got up, and ran.
But then they gradually faded, and
The music died away,
And we were left in an empty room
Before the light of day,
The clothes went back in the dusty robe
And we found another flat,
For just one night we were Prince and Queen
And we’re both in awe of that.
David Lewis Paget
Named after the dying prince,
Where Queen Victoria donned the rags
Of a widow, ever since.
She’d sat outside in her royal Coach
And been heard to mutter, ‘Why?’
While Albert did what he had to do,
What he had to do was die!
And we came by when the Queen was dead
When the Mall was quite forgot,
To rent a room where the prince had died
If we’d known, we’d rather not.
The Mall was grubby and cheap by then
So we thought we’d make it do,
I asked Marie if she didn’t mind
And she said, ‘It’s up to you.’
It seems the room had been empty then
By the choking layers of dust,
I said, ‘Shall I let it blow outside?’
And Marie said, ‘If you must.’
It took us days just to clear the air
And to have a look around,
In some of the ancient furniture
You can imagine what we found.
The robe held some of the smartest clothes
I think, that we’d ever seen,
I said as much to Marie, ‘that dress
You’d swear, was fit for a queen,
And there, a suit for a gentleman
With a full blown grey Top Hat,
I said to Marie, ‘Shall we try them on,’
And she said, ‘Let’s do just that.’
So then on the eve of Michaelmas
We stood by the mirror there,
Arrayed in the best of formal gear
They called Victorian wear,
And music drifted up through the floor
From the ballroom down below,
While I, in a moment of madness
Blurted out, ‘Well, shall we go?’
We made our way to the music by
Descending a curving stair,
And finding a throng of dancers who
Were dressed the way we were,
Then someone called out ‘Her Majesty,’
And the music stayed and died,
While they all stared at Marie and bowed,
Made me feel queer inside.
I swear that they only saw the clothes,
They didn’t see us two,
And they were a shade ephemeral,
I could see right through them, too,
They went right back to their dancing
While we sat on an ottoman,
Whispering what were our chances if
We just got up, and ran.
But then they gradually faded, and
The music died away,
And we were left in an empty room
Before the light of day,
The clothes went back in the dusty robe
And we found another flat,
For just one night we were Prince and Queen
And we’re both in awe of that.
David Lewis Paget
