It was 200 years ago
But oh, it irked my Boney so
You see, he had a cunning plan
To take out that annoying little English man

And his navy, we were to conquer the shores
Of that island that you now call yours
My Boney had a fascination
With European domination

I tried with all my womanly wiles
To beg him, ‘Forget the British Isles’
I said: ‘You’ll only come to grief’
And, ‘What would you want with their ros-beef?’

The point was completely lost on me
Of why he’d want to put to sea
And risk the loss of many ships
For a land that lived on fish and chips

I called my friend Emma on the ‘phone
And the two of us had a little moan
‘I know Jo’, she said, ‘I’ve been thinking the same
I’ve begged him to stop this silly game

Horatio, I said, it will be no disgrace
To just stay at home at Merton Place
With your daughter and me, why take to heart
The threats of Napoleon Bonaparte?’

‘Oh Emma’, I said, ‘I agree with you
But I fear there is nothing we can do
Our intervention is too late
The spoils of war are just too great

They fight not for command of the British Nation
But for control of the Cruising Association
Emma,’ I said, ‘I think all is lost
Boney wants that place at any cost’

‘Oh Jo’, she said, ‘this is too cruel
In our crown, the CA is the jewel
Nelson would sooner rot in a trench
Than hand the CA to the French’

We feared for who would come off worst
That fateful October 21st
When 200 years of history took shape
At sea off that Trafalgar Cape

Boney wasn’t at sea, I must come clean
That night was the night for his Josephine!
But Nelson was on his ship Victory
Proudly flying the old CA burgee

While my Frenchman was getting specially fruity
Nelson asked all his men to do their duty
My boudoir, was all that Boney saw
As Villeneuve set sail on the Bucentaure

That Admiral was so puffed up with pride
He barely felt Nelson’s first broadside
But Nelson must have been very thrilled
Two hundred Frenchmen were wounded or killed

While Boney attended to ‘other’ matters
Our French flagship was all in tatters
Victory was heading Nelson’s way
On that late October day

Perhaps his retreat was a little tardy
As he strolled the decks with his trusty Hardy
One shot from our ship Redoubtable
For Horatio, would end it all

As he thought of Emma, and all he would miss
He asked Hardy to give him a little kiss
Which you British, with your schoolboy humour
Turned into a nasty rumour

But Nelson’s death was not in vain
He saved we French from your awful rain
Black pudding, warm beer, pigeon poo in our hair
From strolling in Trafalgar Square

But he stopped us too from what we wanted the most
To sail our ships round your lovely coast
Not humbled and by defeat disgraced
But with a blue ensign that was de-faced

Though he’d built himself a great empire
There was one role to which Boney did aspire
President, not of the USA
Non, President of the British CA

As Nelson’s body was carried on the Thames
Past one of Limehouse’s greatest gems
He knew that in 200 years
All of you would raise a glass in cheers

And thank him for taking such a bruising
To save you from being L’Association de Cruising!

By Joanna Ross