It’s awf’ly bad luck on Diana,
Her holiday’s fallen apart.
You won’t mend that Merc with a spanner -
Dodi’s literally broken her heart!

They say she’d a bruise on her forehead,
Though I’ve not seen the photographs yet.
Aren’t those mean paparrazzi just horrid?
The thought of it makes me upset.

Now everyone’s drowning in sorrow,
- Do send her some flowers, Mummy, do! -
I’m going to the Palace tomorrow,
And Harrods and Westminster too.

The Elton John record’s just smashing -
It’s been played on the radio all week.
Don’t you think my black outfit looks dashing?
It’s what you call funeral-chic.

The Royals wouldn’t join in the grieving,
They never loved Di like we do.
We stood outside crying all evening,
And we’ll buy all the souvenirs too.

Why’s the Queen being so horrid and callous?
Oh mummy, I’m sick with disgust.
She won’t fly the flag on the Palace,
I hope Tony Blair tells her she must.

Di looks down from heaven on our flowers -
That’s what it says here, in the Sun.
I could sob here for hours and hours,
Oh isn’t this mourning thing fun!