England's Dreaming Poem by DM W

I hear the plaintive strains of Green Sleeves
Emanate from colourful ice cream vans.
Pummelling Punch and poor Judy are still
Popular in certain seaside resorts.
Leather clad bikers, on Bank Holidays,
Often hang around quaint old villages.
Maypole and Morris dances go round and
Round and leave me gladly dazed and confused.
The sweet, familiar scent of fairground
Candy floss and toffee apples still drift
On warm summer breezes. And fish and chips,
With batter, wrapped in newspapers,
Cockles and winkles also with salt and
Vinegar, are simply divine to eat.
These idiosyncratic reminders
Of England's dreaming still fascinate me.