A Christmas Song

Her Majesty s airplanes, they all will never take wing. Your royal horizons are clear, your shores never felt the sea breathing. The streets are all crowded today, but just nobody told you, my Queen, what s the reason. You are throwing them golden coins, but you were not told that there s bronze within. Of those who were here at the outset, with you now remains but a threesome. But, noble Empress, who will let these three sing ... Full text: