Dear dead Victoria <br /> Rotted cosily; <br />In excelsis gloria, <br /> And R. I. P. <br /> <br />And her shroud was buttoned neat, <br /> And her bones were clean and round, <br />And her soul was at her feet <br /> Like a bishop's marble hound. <br /> <br />Albert lay a-drying, <br /> Lavishly arrayed, <br />With his soul out flying <br /> Where his heart had stayed. <br /> <br />And there's some could tell you what land <br /> His spirit walks serene <br />(But I've heard them say in Scotland <br /> It's never been seen).<br /><br />Dorothy Parker<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/victoria/
