Oh do you dream of England,
when Spring is in the air?
The hum of bees on gentle breeze
is all that you will hear,
except for farmers, turning hay,
in meadows far and near;
their spotted, knotted handkerchiefs
tied over thinning hair.
With grass that's green, this rural scene,
broad skies, a blue veneer
and little children on a swing,
their laughter ringing clear.
Perhaps some croquet on a lawn,
or gentle, grazing deer.
Such lazy, hazy, daisey days
and tranquil atmosphere.
Alas! I live in England,
when Spring is in the air.
High winds will lash our Garden Fete
and blow down all the gear;
with poor bedraggled villagers,
from under brollies peer,
to find the Verger's spiked the Cup
with Continental beer!
The rain will cancel Parent's' Day
just like it did last year
and cricketers, in wellie boots,
prod wickets in despair.
For all our hopes and dreams, hard work,
I shed this bitter tear.
There has to be a finer place
and VERY far from here!
'SPRING' Contest for Carol Brown