The Royal Arse Hortillery
Behold the English army as it marches off to war,
Where the musket balls do whistle, and the mighty cannon roar.
But there you’ll find them at the back, a motley bunch I fear,
The Royal Arse Hortillery are bringing up the rear.
They’ve been in every conflict down from Agincourt to Mons,
And many is the battlefield their butts have rested on.
In Flanders Field they sat around with bugger-all to do,
With Wellington they even sat upon the Water-loo.
Their officers are gentlemen and very highly bred,
Their ensign shows a toilet seat upon a horse’s head.
Of medals they have many, like the famous Croix de Guerre,
Which being French, they like to pin upon their derrieres.
They always seem, unhappy and they never ever smile,
For every single one of them is suffering from piles.
There’s talk about suppositories and many tales of woe,
When the Royal Arse Hortillery goes out to meet the foe.
And so young man if you decide, a soldier you must be,
To fight in wars in foreign lands may be your destiny.
Then please don’t sign that dotted line for sure t’would be a farce,
To wind up in a regiment that marches on its arse.
Jeff Eardley lives in the heart of England near to the Peak District National Park and is a local musician playing guitar, mandolin and piano steeped in the music of America, including the likes of Ry Cooder, Paul Simon, and particularly Hank Williams.
Jeff, brilliantly executed farce about the Royal Arse!
Thanks for taking the time to comment Roy, we need a bit of fun over here these days.
Roy, thanks for taking the time to comment. We are all in need of something to laugh about over here.
Great job, Jeff – these are fun to pen and fun to read, a LOLer all the way through. 🙂
Thanks Mark and best wishes to you.
Ha! At last a poem that does what the comic-satiric poet was always expected to do: lambaste and excoriate his target without pity. Everything is here: the smooth rhythm, the choice diction, the perfect rhymes, the pure insouciance… all of these are what made comic-satiric verse so popular. Dryden, Swift, Pope, Byron, Clough, and Belloc would have loved this piece. Dorothy Parker would have wet her panties as she guffawed.
Notice the choice of so many words with an anal reference: butts, bugger-all, loo, toilet seat, derrieres, piles, suppositories, the rear. This piece would never have been accepted by the prissy, sniffy, academically proper bigshots of New Formalism. They would have run from it in pious horror. Shall I say it? They were tight-assed.
Jeff, thanks for making me laugh.
To the list of persons mentioned in my above comment, I should have included the name of Rochester. He also knew how to kick arse.
Joseph, we have an expression over here, to be as “Thick as two short planks” which is how I felt when I reached for the OED to check out “excoriate” and “insouciance,” two words that I will drop into conversation in my local pub whenever the opportunity presents itself. That Dorothy Parker sounds a bit like the wonderful, sadly missed, Joan Rivers. You cheered me up with your comment today for which I send a special thank you from over here.
So true Jeff, I too hate wars & armies, the useless violence. I too write about the horrors of war!!
GHOST AT THE FEAST
by Eugenio Capuccio
Among the Phaeacians at their most lavish,
fêted by warm men and ladies that ravish,
with dainty foods washed by soul-pleasing wine,
did Odysseus prepare as God to dine
marvelled, elated with all that he saw ;
but that banquet’s bard opened his wounds raw :
the hell that wears a man down to his least,
skeletons of war unleashed at the feast,
lance-pierced skulls of friends, their agony throes,
rotting bodies, guts, eyes eaten by crows..
Future pleasures are lost forever more,
if ever you fall in the jaws of war.
Eardley’s poem is not an anti-war poem. It is a comic spoof on one particular military unit.
Jeff, the highest hilarity here is your subject being supremely spooneristically spurious. I was tipped off by its service at Agincourt, a battle that the real Royal Horse Artillery, founded in 1793, never saw. Colonel Peterson got the Royal Arse right as fully farce.
Before I realized that, I would have said this poem of yours corresponds to Japanese toilet humour–which is still true. ANYTHING on that topic turns funny, and comedians can go on for an hour-long television show entertaining Tokyo with the otherwise embarrassing Toto. You’ve done a great job finding vocabulary and versifying. Honi soit qui mal y pense!
Margaret, thank you for your kind words about a piece that I never thought would sneak past the beady eye of Evan. You rightly mention Agincourt, perhaps the last time we English won anything until the 1966 World Cup. On the subject of comedy, a gag from our wonderful Mick Miller (he’s on YouTube) regarding the French chef stating that they cook Octopus alive and the reason it takes 3 hours is that they keep turning the gas off.
Best wishes from over here.
On August 3 when this delightful spoof appeared I was sojourning in Lucerne, Switzerland, where I missed its posting. Now, back home, I have been able to savor Jeff’s punny farody which no doubt has left the Rev. Spooner grinning in his spave.
When I came to “the Water-loo” I laughed out loud.
Jeff’s skill and wit only go to prove that the sublime and the other thing are not mutually exclusive.
Thanks Jim for your kind comment on this piece of nonsense, inspired by a Spoonerism uttered by a pal of mine on the back of a few pints down the local. We have a soft spot for Lucerne. Hope you managed the Rigi and Pilatus trips.
Best wishes from over here.