R J Mitchell 1892 – 1939 . A Legacy
The wood of England
As secured in the past
Now put to the future
As colours pinned to the mast
A skin laid over
Struts as skeletal design
This was his creation
Sculptured art sublime
In his minds eye
To spit fire at the foe
In the heights of the sky
To scorn at the hordes
Come settle the score
Our chariots aloft
Scoff at the minnows below
By favour endowed
These fighting steeds
Inherently designed
Empowering their right
To thrust man and machine
Against mountainous odds
In the plethora of time
A miracle of resolve
Made a vision fly
One mans genius
Climbing to the heights
Tight on the turn
Soaring shift of power endowed
A driven streak
Swooping and flowing
As if in a dream
Graceful, fulfilling
Engaging with speed
And of the man
Who created this craft
Was all the while
Fighting his own rearguard
Struck by the cancer
That does for so many
But when all was done
He kept to his aim
To the end of the game
But sadly lost his battle
Before ours was won
He would have been proud
Of his legacy left
For the band of brothers
As the bard did foretell
Pulling together
To save the day
To scatter the foe
Their fate to plummet
To the sacrificial earth below
His epitaph simply stating
That to read
He won the day
In our hour of need
