RICHARD III Fall of the White Rose I Woe, woe for England! Civil war lasts for years. The aristocracy fights for the throne. The two roses, red and white. This is the last medieval war. The kings draw their swords. The kings of England. Fly Yorkist colours, fly! Our king is rivalled once again. The young pretender to the throne has returned from France. Fly, White Boar, fly! Richard is on the battleground. The noblest son of the land, the last Plantagenet! II The reign of Edward IV started at the Towton. Later at the Tewksbury Yorks became unchallenged. The formidable Edward reigned for twenty-two years. When he died there came a time to fight for power. Richard claimed that former king’s sons were bastard. They were thrown into the Tower and died suspicious death. Thus no direct heirs were left, and by the will of God, Duke of Gloucester became King of England, Richard III. Two years of Richard’s reign were good for the kingdom, But in the eyes of many he still was illegitimate king. A new pretender to the throne emerged from the Tudors. From France, where we was hiding, he came back with an army. III …Oh, motherland England! War and woe for you. Oh, motherland England! Your sons are discontent. Oh, Crown of England! Blood and lives are upon you. Oh, Crown of England! Fly, Yorkist colours, fly! IV The battle. The field of Bosworth. Let York be victorious. Fight, the bold men of England, fight for your King Richard! Betrayals are now unveiled. Battle’s outcome is uncertain. Fight, the bold men of England, those who still are loyal! Yorkists fall. Death draws nearer. King takes horse and leaves the cover. The resolute attack. The challenge. The will to face Tudor. The noble deed made for redemption of all the king’s past sins. The war has ended as the swords found Richard. He didn't flee. He died. Noble, brave York.

ESCORT The merchantmen steam in columns In the strictly defined order Carrying vital cargoes forward Fast convoy, eastbound Guarded fiercely by destroyers And the nimble flower-class corvettes Wayward children of Max Horton Shepherds with the cold hearts Open! Shipping lanes must be kept open! Detected! Came boiling our wrath Depth charged! They did stand no chance Sent back! Into their rancid depth Sent back! Into their putrid hell Always stalked, always watched Never frightened, ever potent Always ready to strike first and To crack U-boats hulls Make the hunters hunted themselves Hailed by depth charges and shells Hammer nails into their coffins Send their boats straight to bottom Let them die in terror, slowly Let them suffocate! Deep below scattered bones And screaming skulls Of merchant seamen Lie around their ships' Rusty hulls Torn by torpedoes Every single night And every single day We make wolves pay dearly For their victims Every seaman lost And every ship destroyed Only adds to the final price There's no forgiveness The Atlantic swell, so potent Rolls the ships and helps them forward Through the war and closer to home To the England's shore The merchantmen steam in columns In the strictly defined order Guarded by the cruel destroyers And the ruthless corvettes Open! Shipping lanes must be kept open! Detected! Came boiling our wrath Depth charged! They did stand no chance Sent back! Into their rancid depth Sent back! Into their putrid hell

AUTUMN EVENING RAIN Great, old, sprawling, majestic city Embrace me withdrawn, tired and glum Emerging from underground Into the cold autumn rain Wet pavements reflect theatre lights Tortured mind reflects on the past Things that long ago were agreed upon Which I time and again agonise over Believing they were taken wrong There was another city There was another river There were stately spires There was midnight twilight In that city rain was still bringing joy Nothing looked like something soon to be lost In that city I still had that will and power to smile And above all, under that rain I still saw that fiery red hair No more Dark, cool, bitter, delicious hand-pulled pint Quench my thirst in the crowded pub Four tall, stately, weathered smoke chimneys Dwarf me coldly as I walk wearily by Down the rain-whipped wharf Immersed in dispiriting thoughts Not feeling the late evening cold Only the pain of the totally Unneeded loss There will be more pain Tomorrow is rain again