The Queen’s Quibble

The Queen’s Quibble

Querulous, the Queen queried the sound

Made by the quaking quorum of the choir.

‘Like quacking quails in quagmires,’ thus she quoth.

Quietly the choir, in quandary, ac-quiesced.

‘Made by the quaking quorum of the choir?’

‘How dare she quibble,’ the choirmaster quipped.

Quietly the choir in quandary acquiesced.

One quart of what she qualified was true.

‘How dare she quibble?’ the choirmaster quipped.

‘She is the Queen. She’s quaint and has no qualms.’

‘One quart of what she qualified was true.’

‘Though you sound more like qua-birds to me.’

‘She IS the Queen. She’s quaint and has no qualms.’

‘We’d better quash this quarrel with a quant.’

‘Though you sound more like kua-birds to me,

Quenching is much preferred to quartering.’

‘We’d better quash this quarrel with a quant.’

‘Like quacking quails in quagmires, thus she quoth.’

‘Let’s not act in a querimonious way,

If the Queen, querulous, queried the sound.’