If It Is to Be, It Is Up to Me

There we were, hanging over a bridge watching the King escaping from the mob by rowing his boat down the Thames during The Peasants Revolt, 1381. Three days that turned the world upside down, almost upending the status quo and tipping royalty off its throne. Almost, almost.
If
It
Is
To
Be
It
Is
Up
To
Me
And as we sail, blows wild the gale
Sweet flows the water, yellow as royal piss
Speech turns to stammer, your lips are too tight to kiss
I've never seen rabbits looking as scared as this
And as we sail, blows wild the gale
A five times champion wouldn't row as fast
Caught in the eddies between future and past
Blowing a hurricane from the Royal arse
And as we sail, blows wild the gale
If
It
Is
To
Be
It
Is
Up
To
Me