They found the last bee-bole in Winter,
Three, behind the curtaining green –
Some six hundred years since
Hammers hollowed hives inside the College walls,
The Bedesmen’s sweet harvest
A court for a Queen.

Time passes.
Church bells chime each quarter hour
And slowly, centuries move.
Another page turns in the long history
Into our time to dance.
A time for counting blessings
As the Town Hall flag flaps
Yellow and blue.

Listen. A hum of crowds gathering:
Pimms and picnics, laughter,
Chairs creak and blankets spread
Softly over Duchy land.
The brass band’s polished music
Lifts in celebration
Around and away and above
The settlement on the hill.