Nativity of Henry Blofeld

Archdruid: My dear old things!

All: My dear old thing!

Litany of Crickety Happiness

Archdruid: The red bus winds past the gasometer.

All: A pigeon flutters at mid-on.

Archdruid: A bright orange plane whose company we are not allowed to mention...

All: Flits towards the west

Archdruid: And there's another one.

All: And another one.

Archdruid: Puffy clouds bubble up over Pimlico

All: And there's someone dressed as a womble!

Archdruid: Ali Cook, like some Greek tragic actor

All: Ponders the inequities of fate.

Archdruid: His shadow, maybe like his best days,

All: Behind him.

Archdruid: And the voice of Geoffrey is heard in the land.

All: I think I'll have some cake.

Archdruid: Does anybody know what the score is?

All: Oh I say!

Archdruid: Wasn't that Jonners?

All: Our grannies could have written a better liturgy with a stick of rhubarb.