We're All as We Lie - Anthony Phillips

August saw a contest fit for Kings

From far and wide they came to trade their swings

Little grubs with stone-age clubs and tanners' sons

With foxes' gloves

They came face to face the stiffest coarse since Tring

Harold took an eight-iron at the first

Hopped the hedge while Tostig chipped and cursed

Sliced into a sticky patch and, playing out, he’d met his match

When lettuce leaves had made the crowd disperse

So, we’re all as we lie

We’re all as we’re lying

No, don’t tell me it’s time,

It’s all in the timing.

Getting wiser, so much wiser, introspected ostraciser,

Drinking up with no holes barred to play.

Daphne lay beside the Silent Pool,

When suddenly the air began to cool

Otto heard it, running back, and tried to stop the thudding crack

As Luther strode up, crying «Winter Rules».

«Holy Mackerel», cried the Papal Prince,

«you're out of bounds I’m really quite convinced».