the weekly


to the tune of Ian Dury’s ‘Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick’


From Killeen to Aberdeen, on the grid in Milton Keynes,

From Indian Queens to Letterbreen, every Jack and every Jean:

Pour more fizz for Lizabeth, pour it, pour it,

Iechyd da and hail-well-met, pour it, pour it,

Pour more fizz for Lizabeth,

Toast her till we’re out of breath,

Roar it, roar it; roar it.


From the bars of Crossmaglen to the pine trees of High Spen,

From the Fens to Llanedwen, all the women, all the men –



From the bakers in Dundee to the golf at Rhos-on-Sea,

Pity Me, and Daventry, everybody, sing with me –



From the murals of Prestonpans to the tank at Slapton Sands,

By the caves at Llanarfan, every loyal royal fan –



From the gas at Connah’s Quay, to Drumcree and Kircudbright,

Lockerbie and Knottingley, join me in a simple plea –



On the stones at Turton Heights, Isle of Wight or German Bight,

At Long Sight, at Bright and Sleight, in the day or in the night –



From the stands at Percy Park to the Seigneur’s lands in Sark,

When in Clerkenwell or Berks, let us join the loyal larks –



In the crofts of Muckle Roe, on the sands at Westward Ho,

Clitheroe and Wivenhoe, all the people, high and low –



With the seals who bask at Gweek, in Old Leake and Coaley Peak,

Not to speak of Greatham Creek (I was only there last week) –



From the well at Derrynoose, to the station at Caersws,

In Drumgoose, the river Loose, in your home or in your hoos –



From the cliffs at Beachy Head to the kiln at Nettlebed,

At Medstead, or on Loch Nedd, everyone, alive or dead –



Beneath the oaks of Killaloo, with the farm-folk of Combrew,

On the cairn of Corriedoo, whether red or white or blue –



From the hops that drop on Kent, to the White Horse Bridge in Brent,

In Lent, or Lower Clent, let us have some merriment –



Dogging on at Barrow Wake, under eaves at Weaverslake,

From Blindcrake to Withystakes, half asleep or wide awake –



Up in Milton of Finavon, at the port of Milford Haven,

On the moors by Enniscaven, croaking with the Tower ravens –



From the peat at Flanders Moss to the street at Sixmilecross,

Greylake Fosse to Tillyloss, let us sing this out if poss. –



Down in Splatt and up in Twatt, in the pub at Pentregat,

At St. Catz and Battle Flatts, all roll out the welcome mats –




With apologies to Ian Dury’s Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick. A shorter version of this alternate national anthem won a competition in The Spectator in February.




The Queen turned 90.

21 April 2016


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