Under the watchful eye of the peregrine

June 18, 2019

Under the watchful eye of the peregrine,

on Saturdays the bustling city sings

as shoppers from miles enjoy the surroundings

and the ale drinkers in pubs enjoy fine things

and toast to this fine city we’re living in.

 

Under the watchful eye of the peregrine,

no rural backwater this - it’s thriving

with swing dancing and clubs to shag and jive in

and an atmosphere that’s warm, gentle and nice

and people who smile and ask you how’s your life.

 

 

Under the watchful eye of the peregrine

the crowds roar as Delia’s Canaries win

and bathe the city in a green and yellow shim,

fill the Adam and Eve and the Woodcock Inn

and cram the teeming Murderer’s to the brim.

 

Under the watchful eye of the peregrine,

steady as she soars and graceful as her wing,

among the boughs on Wensum’s banks, blackbirds sing

and willows weep tears of joy to grace this fine

place, where old, cobbled roads twist up timber hills.

 

 

Under the watchful eye of the peregrine,

streets lined with sagging beams that lean over lanes

adorned with flint walls and churches that remain

to have seen it all; England’s rise, through plagues,

where once sat kings, the castle reigns over still.

 

Under the watchful eye of the peregrine,

perched upon the towering cathedral spire

around which the river’s gentle banks inspire

tales from within the fantasies of this fine

place - a UNESCO world city of literature.

 

Under the watchful eye of the peregrine,

not a rich place, this, but filled with a rare wealth

that can’t be found in vaulted banks. There’s a soul

to this fine city - an independent scene -

Birdcage, Les Garrigues, Cafe Writers, Magic Es.

 

 

Under the watchful eye of the peregrine,

where guys and girls on skates roll together,

and prosecco is sipped on boats on the Broads

and it’s hard to complain about the weather

in this big sky place, this delightful dry place.

 

Under the watchful eye of the peregrine,

on those dazzling days down by the UEA

the lake sparkles like the glittering Broads

and the world leading science down the road,

the reach of which cannot be overstated.

 

Under the watchful eye of the peregrine

my heart swells when I gaze on the market

and tears of pride well in my lucky blue eyes

to be one of the most fortunate of guys

to dwell in this city finer than divine.

 

Under the watchful eye of the peregrine

times change, people too, and if I had to go

a piece would tear from the heart which tells me so

and call me back from time to time

to this beloved place,

a city of a thousand dreams

that will never be replaced.

 

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