Five winters passed since Britain’s leap,
From Union’s ties to waters deep.
No customs bonds, no common chains,
Yet, what’s been lost and what remains?

 

The promise shone of sovereign might,
Of borders closed, of futures bright.
Trade unbound, and rules our own,
A dream proclaimed from Churchill’s throne.

 

But ports grew still, and shelves turned bare,
The fishing fleets met naught but air.
The treaties signed in rushed regret,
Left farmers, traders, deep in debt.

 

A health care pledge, a gilded vow,
Rings hollow in the chaos now.
No buses red, no surplus seen,
Just tax and cuts where hope had been.

 

Some cheer for freedom, others mourn,
For ties once cherished, now are torn.
The younger eyes look “east“ with ache,
While older hearts, their choice remake.

 

Did prophets false their truths inflate,
As dreams of glory met their fate?
The market staggers, voices shout,
What’s gained is vague; what’s lost has clout.

 

And yet, the Isles still tread their course,
Through currents strong, through strained resource.
The future waits, obscure, untamed,
By history’s lessons, marked and named.