The End of Downton Abbey

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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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