Coventry Poetry

City walls that stood so fast, Our True Blue is here to last, The gates of Coventry are still here, Like we the people have no fear. Spinners, weavers of our town, Raised us up never let us down. Ribbons, watches for use and time, In detail worked oh so fine. Three charters for our free trade, Our True Blue does never fade, Cycles, painters, dyers, drapers, tiles wool and glass, Shows this town is here to last. Cars and tools made by machine and hand, Bought by others through out the land, The town has always run its course, From Godiva riding naked on her horse.

"We speak with an accent exceedingly rare, Meet under a statue exceedingly bare And if you want a cathedral we've got one to spare! In me Coventry home"

While sitting in my garden, when looking all around, I spy a little beetle run across the ground, Blossoms that caress the trees, showing off their dress, I can hear the blackbird sing, it's nature at its best, The worm that turns the earth so fine, the hoverfly with wings, The perfume from flowers and shrubs, the song thrush that doth sing. A ladybird a gardener's friend, as she eats the pests away, She's sitting there upon the leaves, on a bright and sunny day, The busy bee from flower to flower, collecting to make honey, Leaves then fall upon the ground, a hedgehog cute and funny, The snow has come it's Christmas time, mother nature she has made, But not all is lost, I can see a robin on my spade.