Kew Bridge ©
(Inspired a bit by another)
Frank E Gibbard
Oh what a beautiful structure is the Bridge at Kew,
which gave a means of traversing the Thames to anyone who
needed to cross the highway from Middlesex to Surrey,
so folks pedestrian of pace and others in a hurry
may progress their journeys, yet still enjoy the view,
over parallel parapets of white above the river's blue:
an erection raised in eighteen hundred and ninety two,
there and thereby to navigate 'Old Father Thames' at Kew.
For when back then it was opened 'twas accorded much ado
there was as contemporaneous reports recorded:
"a most frightful great to-do!"
mayors and their mayoresses
in their robes and finest dresses
all conjoined the hullabaloo.
For the greatest of occasions ever witnessed down at Kew,
there flowed alongside the river the best wines of either hue,
besides the quaffing of "good old champers", 'twas their duty so to do.
In case the weather were inclement they had recourse to marquee tent
but their festival was sun blessed by a cloudless firmament
in frock-coats the dignitaries roasted
while Victoria was toasted
and their enterprise was boasted to the full,
and fat bellies of the swells,
as history rightly tells,
contrasted with the thinness of the poor's.
While top peoples' top hats were being tossed at Kew,
in nearby Brentford slums no flatcap flew
because there'd been no invitations, no thank you!
There has been no Kew disaster,
over which we could not plaster
but to bridge the poverty gap there's much to do.
At the risk of being simplistic I hope it may be realistic
that one day we will get across, there is a queue.