Victoria
Victoria, so long away,
The streets of London,
Still today,
Remember how, the dimmer sun,
Is brighter by the day.
And though your plight,
Was dark ahead,
The stars at night,
Above your bed,
Were lullabies of light.
The stories that you told so well,
Became for me,
The dinner bell,
That happily,
Grew kinder with each tell.
The city boy, named Oliver,
The one you freed,
And loved, for sure,
Became the need,
That finally won the cure.
The child whom we still adore,
The very one,
That Mary bore,
Was never done,
By how you loved us more.
The victory, from certain hate,
Became the fight,
We celebrate,
To win the right,
And thus, to prove our fate.
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