A free England
Dragged along by sails of red and gold
The wild, grey river surges forward
Sensing the horizon
Lost behind the mist and rain,
The shadows of so many bridges.
A fleet of a thousand ships
Trapped between granite banks
The leaden weight of history
Has thrown out an angle to catch the sea,
The wide and restless sea
Calling them from the estuary.
Along the Thames the fleet flies
Brightening the gloomy day.
The boats bob up and down
The waves froth and swirl treacherously
Barks and canoes dip under waves…
Currents tug and pull them up and on,
On past the Tower of Big Ben,
Past the South Bank meandering like a drunken reveler,
Laughing, singing and clinking glasses
On a cubic, crazy, barren shore.
Past the London Eye beaming down radiantly,
Past the St Paul’s, the Anchor pub,
The worn steps leading up to Threadneedle street
The Bank of England and the City of London,
Financiers of Glaxo Smith Kline,
And past the wretched tenements of Southwark.
Undaunted, the fleet sails on
Beneath the arms of London Bridge raised in a stiff salute
Leaving all the city’s monuments behind,
Far, far behind,
Melting in the prism of raindrops.
The fleet speeds on
And on towards the open sea.
To an England without a corrupted monarchy
The Queen and her side kick Philip
wolves tearing into the sheep