Made jointly in Britain and France
This
thing of beauty and elegance
I
was at school when she first flew
It
would not be bested that I knew
When
a boy it was only a prototype
So
unique there was no need to hype
The
most beautiful sight I ever saw
Impossible
not to be left in awe
I
thought it was a fantastic dream
Revolutionary
as harnessing steam
An
example of the designer’s art
Shaped
like a hi-tech paper dart
To
see the white lady gracefully soar
And
hear the Rolls Royce engines roar
Brian
Trubshaw brought her to life
Cutting
through the ether like a knife
Its
painted livery reflecting bright
While
achieving supersonic flight
Apparently
not everyone is a fan
Not
seeing the achievement of man
The
have-nots looked on with envy
Was
it the craft of the bourgeoisie?
The
powers that be in their wisdom
Have
grounded this phenomenon
The
news brings tears to my eyes
As
she’s no longer to grace our skies
So,
what’s to become of the Concorde?
The
graceful lady so much adored
The
destiny of the planes is a done deal
Broken
for scrap or sale piecemeal
As
if taken out of service is not enough
Pieces
will be sold on eBay to a buff
Or
maybe something even more bizarre
To
be used as ornaments or Object d’art
No
more chance of traveling deluxe
Were
left to the flying cattle trucks
The
Lumbering giants defying gravity
With
Bigger payloads and longevity
