England Poem by shimon weinroth

Outdated, Updated and Majestic

there will always be an England,
how much, how many, so few, so little,
the most of more, and less than less,
the very of every, the always of never,
the often of seldom, the never of ever,

off to Londonium and none such place,
and no such lane, any such drive, and every
which way, hub bubbed and stalled, double
deckered and taxied to the seranades of
bottled Beattles, on strawberry lanes,
dyspeptically belched through peppermint
road, accidenditally spearminted on candy hifghway

yet I've never been late to 4o'clock
teas and motor jams and marmalades,
butter scotched cookies, and welched promises

gluttoned and drunk with blueberry beer
and kidney pie, at some curiosity shoppe,
kippered with the drivers shouting'Barkis is willin'

Edwardian, Victorian, and just plain crumbling,
dwellings dotting the highways and crossings
the lanes with counsel houses to meet
the need of some great architectual deed,

so Phillip went down to the Thames, and out
to the sea, singing. there will always be an England