Het nieuws is nog niet officieel bevestigd, maar dat voor Queen Elizabeth het einde nu met rasse schreden nadert is voor iedereen duidelijk. Voor alle duidelijkheid: ook de anti-monarchisten in de redactie verheugen zich daar niet op. Het is een broze oude vrouw en een mensenleven is een mensenleven. Bovendien lopen er echt wel kwaadaardiger types rond dan The Queen.
The Queen Is Dead dateert uit de tijd dat Morrissey zijn verstand nog niet verloren had en geen Farage-groupie was. De tekst is een parodie op de mediafascinatie met royalty. Op dat punt is Engeland echt nog een stuk erger dan Nederland. Tekst van Morrissey, muziek van Johnny Marr.
Toetje: klassieke video van Derek Jarman, met drie songs van The Smiths, waaronder uiteraard The Queen Is Dead. Meer over de samenwerking van Jarman en The Smiths vind je hier.
Oh, take me back to dear old Blighty
Put me on the train for London Town
Take me anywhere
Drop me anywhere
In Liverpool, Leeds or Birmingham
But I don’t care
I should like to see—
I don’t bless them
Farewell to this land’s cheerless marshes
Hemmed in like a boar between archers
Her very Lowness with her head in a sling
I’m truly sorry but it sounds like a wonderful thing
I say Charles don’t you ever crave
To appear on the front of the Daily Mail
Dressed in your mother’s bridal veil?
(Oh, oh-oh, oh)
And so I checked all the registered historical facts
And I was shocked into shame to discover
How I’m the 18th pale descendant
Of some old queen or other
Oh has the world changed, or have I changed?
Oh has the world changed, or have I changed?
Some nine year old tough who peddles drugs
I swear to God, I swear I never even knew what drugs were
(Oh, oh-oh, oh)
So I broke into the Palace
With a sponge and a rusty spanner
She said, “Eh, I know you, and you cannot sing”
I said, “That’s nothing, you should hear me play piano”
We can go for a walk where it’s quiet and dry
And talk about precious things
But when you are tied to your mother’s apron
No-one talks about castration
(Oh, oh-oh)
We can go for a walk where it’s quiet and dry
And talk about precious things
Like love and law and poverty, oh, oh
(These are the things that kill me)
We can go for a walk where it’s quiet and dry
And talk about precious things
But the rain that flattens my hair, oh
(These are the things that kill me)
All their lies about makeup and long hair, are still there
Past the pub that saps your body
And the church who’ll snatch your money
The Queen is dead, boys
And it’s so lonely on a limb
Pass the pub that wrecks your body
And the church, all they want is your money
The Queen is dead, boys
And it’s so lonely on a limb
Life is very long, when you’re lonely
Life is very long, when you’re lonely
Life is very long, when you’re lonely
Life is very long, when you’re lonely
Uitgelichte afbeelding: By Anefo – http://proxy.handle.net/10648/a8aff004-d0b4-102d-bcf8-003048976d84, CC0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=106995556
