Enter Philip I of Belgium

It’s been hot and sultry for a week
The sun begins to bronze my feet
All my jackets left behind
For once the weather has been kind.

We reach the 21st this year
In blazing sunshine; it is clear
That our modest black-red-yellow nation
Will undergo a transformation.

King Albert, the second of the name,
Has for some time made it plain
That the affairs of State should be
In the hands of a younger man than he.

Forced by Baudouin’s death in Spain
In Ninety-Three, he’s learnt to reign;
Kept Belgium on an even keel
An act requiring nerves of steel.

The pessimists who expect “la drache”*
To pour cold water on the bash
As Philip steps up to the mark
Might have, for once, a change of heart.

Filip/Philippe – how will he sign?
It’s a language question every time!
But with his lovely wife Mathilde
The succession is fulfilled.

* heavy downpour on 21st July, National Day

(written 21st July 2013)

(c) Poet in the woods 2013