The queen is dead

I was in England for my wife's birthday,

Down the West End.

We brought our lovely daughter,

And her best friend.

We wandered into a busy pub,

Just before the ban,

Then we went on to a club,

To celebrate my Joanne.

We were asked by the government,

To practice social distancing,

The Taoiseach back home,

Persistently insisting.

We ordered tickets to the West End show,

Before virus loomed,

For my wife I wanted to go,

But we left there doomed.

In the club I was unaware,

Of social distancing,

My inhibitions Impaired,

I should have been insisting.

A man turned towards me,

I couldn't understand what he was saying,

Coughing in my face he,

Left me inside praying,

That he didn't have the virus,

Because if he did,

I give it to her Royal Highness,

This particular covid

19, days later

I was crying at her grave,

My good old mum died the creature,

A life we could not save.