Tables placed in a long straight line
Covered in cloth they look sublime,
Forms and chairs appearing at will
That little bottoms excitedly fill
Cups of tea and glasses of pop
Help to wash down, food that's none stop,
From plate after plate emptied then filled
By mother's who are highly skilled.
At baking apple and blackberry pie, and
Heaps of jam tarts stacked to the sky,
There's beer to down with flying froth
That leaves its mark on the table cloth,
To mix with dropped dollops of ice cream
That brought forth the odd blaspheme.
Paper hats fly in the warming breeze
Dodging little hands who try to seize,
And balloons that children adore
Are blown up by adults with aching jaw
A song is sung to our new crowned Queen
With great gusto by Auntie Doreen,
Ending with shouts of hip-hip hooray
Bringing to an end, a lovely day.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem