Seven and twenty fishes ate tea with the Queen,
but none of them would ever ask what she would mean
when she flung up her arms high into the air
and wailed like a banshee in the throws of despair.
"Merry old England is waiting for me!"
she would cry, (so we spy
in our old time-machine,)
"And if I don't get back there, then who knows what I'll do!"
So she took out the bow from her hair and drew.
The arrow shot forth, striking into the clock,
which rang like a bell, as the door began to knock.
And there in the doorway was the Earl of Shape,
Standing square, prim and proper in a black velvet cape.
"The Queen's not at all well, she's really quite sick,"
he informed all the fishes, as cutting straight to the quick.
"She has worms in her eyes and slugs in her ears,
Which is really quite normal when you've been dead for years."
The fishes wept sorrow, collecting their eyes.
They stood up, bowed low, but to their surprise
found nothing in the way of woman or Queen
standing in the dark spot where Her Highness had been.
"But where has she flown to? Where has the Queen gone?"
Asked the carp, with his mouth on the pipe he had drawn,
"And where is the Earl who stood there in the door?
See, he's missing now, too, from his spot on the floor."
And so shrugging their shoulders, the fish swam away
from the spot in the lake where they had dined on that day
leaving two scattered piles of bleached bone in their wake,
and two grinning skulls at the bottom of the lake.
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Pelvic Thrust me. . [
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