I sometimes wonder about the Queen
Does she live her life in constant dreams
Of fresh painted buildings and high iced teas
Or is she like a ghost
Do the servants heave a heavy sigh
The kitchen’s a mess and they don’t know why
In the depth of night all the eggs got fried
And served on toast
Are there corgi hairs in the gravy boat
Does she come downstairs in her ermine dressing coat
Does she make some beans whilst Philip gloats
Or does she check her post?
I’d like to think she helps herself
To the Palace kitchens like a sneaky elf
And she doesn’t worry about her health
As she makes her midnight roast
When she makes a meal does she share a joke
With the kitchen maids, or a visiting bloke
Or does she step outside for a sneaky smoke
Whilst making Beans on toast
