Times were when I loved nothing more
than the ‘1812’. Its cannons’ roar,
its church-bells’ ringing
used to make my pulse-rate soar.
But now what sets my heart a-winging
is Carol singing.
George and Ringo, John and Paul
when I was young held me in thrall.
But now what I like most of all
is Carol singing.
More than the Proms at the Albert Hall,
more than The Last Post bugle call,
more than Frank Sinatra swinging,
more than pipers Highland flinging.
Let Roy Plomley’s ghost rejoice,
the perfect ‘Desert Island’ choice
is lovely Carol in full voice … singing.
ah yes the glorious 1812
when the winter snows put paid
to Boney’s ambition of Moscow in spring
and a full retreat was made
then many years later along went the four
to a gig at the Albert Hall
they’d thought about playing the Morning Star
but the venue was far too small
they have all been there on that hallowed stage
entertaining us, doing their thing,
but none can compare with the sweet sweet tones
of Carol when she starts to sing.