The end of Downton Abbey
Has certainly made me crabby.
Each Sunday night I hogged the TV
With thought of no one else but me–
How I loved the Edwardian era,
(Even though Maggie Smith was a terror)
Never will I forget their grace and their charm
And even the pigs on the farm.
The characters with all their quirks and stories,
The beautiful house with all its glories–
How wonderful was that time
In England’s sweet prime!
Though you’d have to be filthy rich
To have someone dress you and scratch every itch–
To pour your wine and pour your tea
And, most amazing to me–
To be born into the ‘high flying adored,’
So secure in your place you could afford to be bored
With new clothes and new jewelry,
And other tomfoolery–
A dream come true
For the fortunate few!
Ah well, I digress–
Suffice it to say that I feel some distress
When Sunday night comes round
With no Downton Abbey to be found–
Guess I’ll have to make do
With some other UK froofroo!
Oh, how I’ll miss the downs and the ups
Of the Crawleys, their staff and even their pups–
They’ve peopled my dreams with intrigue and delight,
And lit up my heart each Sunday night!
God bless and farewell to a wonderful show
Our thanks go with you wherever you go.