Last night as I slept I had a strange dream
That we’d all been invited to sing for the Queen.
Her Majesty said, ‘Next year when I’m eighty,
The men of New Mill will sing at my party.’
As time went on, we rehearsed every part
With royal devotion – we’d sing from the heart.
Our Graham said, ‘Now lads don’t make a fuss,
Just file out in order and get on the bus.’
It’s a long way to London, and we all need the loo,
And while there’s a chance we’ll quench our thirsts too.
We arrived at the palace well oiled and blaze,
We’re sure to give Liz a most wonderful day.
I stood to conduct, my knees all a dither,
I opened my mouth – but my lips were a quiver.
My mouth was so dry and my throat was so sore,
Oh no – worst of all, I’ve now got lock jaw.
I can’t mouth the words, I’m not able to mime,
I fear we’re all in for a terrible time.
I flapped my arms wildly – I was in such a state,
The bass entries were early, the baritones late.
The tenors were shrieking, their voices like tin,
The whole choir was making one heck of a din.
A look of sheer panic appeared on the faces
Of 1st and 2nd tenors, baritones and basses.
I know, let’s sing faster – now that’s an idea
Then no one will know if the words are unclear.
We’ll simply increase the speed of each song
Then perhaps she’ll not notice the lyrics are wrong.
We hummed and we ooed and we lahed fast and loud
And then when we’d finished we turned and we bowed.
But The Queen looked around with a fearsome glower
And banished the men of New Mill to The Tower!
At the noise of her shouting I awoke with a start
And shot up in bed – my poor pounding heart.
That’s more of a nightmare – not simply a dream
Of the time we were summoned to sing for The Queen.
