Twentieth Century Vox:
The British Experience 1900-2000

Ladysmith, Mafeking, once relieved,
No more fight in the Boers, they believed.
The railway age now steams to an end,
But Britain’s alone, with foes but no friend.
Victorian morals and standards decline
With 16 per cent on the poverty line:
Working or Lower or Middle or Upper
Cake or cold mutton‒or nothing‒for supper.
It’s Edwardian England, so Long Live the King,
And it’s bustles and bustiers and that sort of thing.
Antarctica’s British, the North Pole too‒
Who cares if elsewhere there’s an earthquake or two?
Wireless telegraphy’s crossed the Atlantic,
But launching the Dreadnoughts is far more romantic.
The entente cordiale brings us down from the fence
And we look to the navy for Britain’s defence.
“Votes for women!” the suffragettes cheered,
While many men doubted and many men sneered:
“A lot of young women who’ve never been kissed!”
But Emily Davidson’s sadly missed.
With Harry Lauder, Marie Lloyd
The music hall, that was enjoyed
By young and old and rich and poor,
Would last, it seemed, for evermore.
After Edward, George accedes
While in the Balkans tiny seeds
Are nurtured, after being sown,
Of destruction yet unknown.
Scott, Oates, Evans, Wilson, Bowers
Perish, while the European powers,
In that awful mechanism caught,
Prepare for war that must be fought.
An Archduke reeled and fell one day
And with him, for him, countless other young men lay
Down for King and Country, duty done:
Bloodied, broken, every one.
“We’re ’ere because we’re ’ere” is what they sang.
In the air of Arras, Thiepval, La Bassée their voices hang.
“’angin’ on the old barbed wire”, was Bill.
On Vimy Ridge you can almost see him still.
“Canaries” some, in dungarees,
Others sewed as VADS.
Stripped of all Edwardian trimmin’,
These were hardened, wartime women.
Franz Josef went and Kaiser Wilhelm too,
Though it cost so many honest lads and true:
Lads from Shropshire, Kent and Rutland
Gassed at Ypres, drowned off Jutland.
The Titanic went down, but Alcock and Brown
Crossed the ocean in one single motion.
From the peace of Versailles to a piece of the pie,
From mass celebrations to war reparations.
Women admitted to Oxford at home,
Joan of Arc canonised lately in Rome.
The Turks in Cilicia did something shabby,
An unknown soldier in Westminster Abbey.
The 20’s they roared, and flappers grew bored
In a land fit for heroes to live in.
The intentions were good, but the arguments flawed:
There are sins that just can’t be forgiven.
Spiffing and ripping and jolly good show!
Though the workers are down on their luck, don’t you know?
The miners and dockers and those sort of chaps
Are shirking, not working‒but striking perhaps.
While brownshirts and blackshirts fall into line
The French and the British come home from the Rhine.
Now it’s Hitler and Himmler and Gœbbels and Gœring,
While they of the old gang are simply demurring.
Pick Yourself Up! Let Yourself Go!
Carefree, Swing Time, Harlem and Bo,
A Foggy Day, A Fine Romance,
Cheek to Cheek, and Shall We Dance?
Those were the days and those were the tunes
With Henry Hall and Charlie Kunz,
Benny Goodman, Harry Roy,
Green Eyes, Moonglow, Shoe Shine Boy.
Young King Edward’s abdication
Spoils the fun and rocks the nation.
Franco’s war breaks out in Spain,
While here at home it’s George again.
From Anschluss to Munich, what a surprise!
Should the navy mobilise?
“Peace in our time”, but time’s running short:
Re-arm and build shelters, before we get caught!
War it is: a clash of nations
Rationing, Blitz, evacuations,
Air raids, gas masks, volunteers
Bathed in blood, sweat, toil and tears.
By so many to so few:
So much owed to them that flew
And in their finest hour gave
Themselves up to an airy grave.
On the convoys, on the fiddle,
In the Mood, and in the middle
Of it all, bottoms up!
Down the hatch! Another cup?
D-day landing, Ike commanding
History teaches, on the beaches
Bullets hissing, Rommel missing.
Men will say “The Longest Day”.
Lili Marlene, The White Cliffs of Dover
Were more than just words and a score,
And It Had to Be You, for those who’d been over,
Were moments of peace in the war.
Deloused, demobbed, back in civvy street:
Watch your language: ladies present, welcome home, wipe your feet.
Settle down, come to terms, have a rest, sit about,
Take it easy, take a break, take a picture, take me out!
You’ve never had it so good as today
“It’s a garden of Eden” they say:
A Teddy boy’s heaven in one-nine-five-seven
And a time for the workers to play.
For angry young men, there is room at the top,
With Brylcream and coffee and skiffle and pop,
CND marches for banning the bombs‒
Or just play it cool on a night at the Proms.
Beatlemania, Mary Quant, Juke Box Jury, all you want.
“Love Me Do” McCartney sings, Elvis ages, Britain swings.
Immigration, Confrontation, Demonstration, wave the banners!
Revolution, prosecution, no solution, mind your manners!
Shopping precincts, inner city
Council project, sitting pretty.
Hopeful, smokeless, lawful, faceless,
Peaceful, heartless, awful, graceless.
Asset-stripping, boom and slump,
Building workers on the lump.
Dockers, miners discontented,
Jobs are going, much lamented.
Brixton’s, Southhall’s, Toxteth’s cry:
Was it heard by Charles and Di?
The Falklands factor masked the truth
Of angry, discontented youth.
Fat-free, lap top, lead-free, crop top,
Pig out, drop out, work out, cop out,
Flashback, come-back, laid back, cash back
Done that, been there, tee-shirt fun-wear.
Nice girls, Spice Girls, video clips
Range-rove, road-rage, see the eclipse
Meanwhile mobile messages say:
“As if … dream on … it’s Y2K”.

Poem contrived and concocted by
Henry Daniels and Audrey Rosset
(poetic licence applied for)