She got an Oscar for her role
In Downton Abbey; and she played the Queen
In that biopic with Sir Andrew Foale—
You know the one I mean—
He’s in that ad for Windolene;
Her acting gave us so much pleasure:
Nothing too horrid or obscene;
They say she is a National Treasure.

For her last premiere she wore a stole
Of silver—had a lovely sheen,
Like little fishes in a shoal;
I’m sure she likes a quiet life, like in that scene
In Cranford where she kept the silver clean,
And her sister showed displeasure
When she forgot the wintergreen;
They say she is a National Treasure.

She came from here you know—but when she bared her soul
In that long interview with Young and Lean
She said it was a dreadful hole;
And at the Woman’s Weekly—where Lucinda has a ‘mole’—
They say she’s a republican, although she has a mansion at St. Mary Knowle,
A DBE and chauffeur-driven limousine;
But fame and fortune take their toll.
They say she is a National Treasure.


Prince, you despise the common prole;
What’s more, you do it at your leisure
(That’s not the same as being on the Dole).
They say she is a National Treasure.

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