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For Nicola

I send fond wishes to a horse named Tonto

And you, sweet Nicola, who once was wont to

Cross a busy London thoroughfare

To ride about the Common on this mare.

But there’s another matter that’s still pending,

And that’s her boyish name you keep defending.

A change to something like La Belle Tontina

Would please no less than ‘Lizabeth Regina

When next you’re having tea at Buckingham

Just ask Her as She’s heaping scones with jam.

She’ll answer in her candid, regal way:

“Naming in the Kingdom mustn’t stray

From what we’re all accustomed to from birth.

What’s so in Penzance, no less so in Perth;

And think on T’s poor beastly mental state,

When some curvaceous, flirty stable mate

Gives her mane a playful little shake

And Tonto has no clue of what’s at stake.

She’ll anguish that her name is all too true

Some ghastly psychic funk might then ensue

And fling her onto Freud’s most spacious couch

Making Daddy’s pocket book cry - Ouch! -

So why not heed your Monarch’s kind advice,

Accept this stupid, trifling sacrifice.