Crowded Upstairs

I feel like King Theoden.

"What can men do against such reckless hate?"

As an Anglophile, this saddens me. As a human being, it sickens me.

Oh! England, my Lionheart,
I'm in your garden, fading fast in your arms.
The soldiers soften, the war is over.
The air raid shelters are blooming clover.
Flapping umbrellas fill the lanes --
My London Bridge in rain again.

Oh! England, my Lionheart!
Peter Pan steals the kids in Kensington Park.
You read me Shakespeare on the rolling Thames --
That old river poet that never, ever ends.
Our thumping hearts hold the ravens in,
And keep the tower from tumbling.