What's It All About, Alfred?
If Leicester had a car park
Where Dick – without a ticket –
Lay low, no fast or hard mark,
Then there’s a site – let’s pick it –
Where some dead monarch’s DNA
Could force the travellers our way.
Alfred (so they claim) was Great,
And founded England’s navy,
But now his bones will demonstrate
How best to wring the gravy
From tourists, lost for things to purchase.
With Alfred’s help, they’ll fill the churches.
A sexy Saxon monarch
Iconic, sainted, brave,
Is frankly just the tonic –
For God’s sake, find his grave!
A genius it does not take
To sniff the market for burnt cake.
Yes, thanks to Richard Crookback,
Now Leicester’s on the map,
We needn’t ever look back –
Every new old king’s a trap:
Republics are a fine idea,
But not much cash in them, we fear.
Click here to buy Bill’s poetry collection Ringers
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