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June’s England! Raindrops glisten from the boughs
Of overhanging trees, where damp birds drowse
And view below growing festivity
Of thousands celebrating Jubilee.
The golden sun, concealed by thick grey cloak,
An absentee amongst rejoicing folk,
Who holidaying, joyfully relax
And laugh and chat, and wave bright Union Jacks.
There, tiny children sway precariously
On shoulders, midst the human heaving sea,
There, laughing teens, and all-age family,
Grandparents grey, and aging OAP,
Stand side by side to view this day’s affair,
Experiencing a day they closely share,
A Royal Pageant, gloriously seen,
In recognition of our gracious Queen.
And rolling ever-slowly, ageless , by
Old Father Thames, ‘neath dull grey leaden sky,
Plays host to vessels, thousand strong, small, large,
Accompanying the royal gold-red barge.
From bank, and boat, there rises copious cheers
At sights unwitnessed for three hundred years.
June’s England! Wet musicians sing and play,
Soaked artists wetly capture such a day,
Damp organisers bravely soldier through,
Quite unperturbed by all they have to do.
None will forget this day, this glorious scene,
When thousands sang with joy ‘God save our Queen.’
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