The Statue Of Our Queen
Pride, selfishness in every line, And on its face a frown, It stands, a sceptre in its hand, And points forever down. And who will kneel? The unemployed! Small homage pay, I ween, The only men who gather ’neath The Statue of our Queen. I’d scarcely wonder if the sun, That rises with good grace, Should sink and leave the day undone At sight of such a face. But no! The day will still have birth In all its golden sheen, When antiquarians unearth The Statue of our Queen. Then if you’d have us loyal bide As we have loyal been, Great Parkes! for love of England, hide The Statue of our Queen.