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Skimming the blue
Beneath the earth sleeping, silent to this day lay a squadron fit for heroes,
Crated and at prey, years of torment endured, destined for the skies,
Brave wings of might capture British heart’s, buried from prying eyes.
Denied by fate freedom of flight, the battle seen by many,
Built for speed with athletic lines and engineered by the penny.
Poetic, Britannia’s shield they carry, Britain’s sweat and tears,
Twenty times the grave men dug,
Caressed in oil and grease they lay for years and years.
Until the day restoration comes, eternally they would stay,
Exhumed from their earthly tombs silently they prey
No man could endeavour to save a nation without those steely knights
And finally when the heavens call and winds blow across wings in flight
Inspiration their final gift, in memory of their comrades plight.
With wings of glory and youth onboard given gods holy grace
The lost squadron abandoned will be reborn and finally learn their fate,
Poetic that Merlin engines sound, thundering across British skies,
Loved by British hearts and minds bringing a tear to a knowing eye.