Cheer

Cheer is a soft, warm light that slips
Through winter mist and soggy streets,
It lifts the shoulders of the grumpy
And turns a frown to brightened beats.

In cosy pubs where laughter rings,
And tea is poured in chipped blue cups,
A jest, a smile, a friendly nudge—
The simple gifts that cheer us up.

When rain drums on the cobblestones,
And fog embraces the old town,
A chorus of bright voices rise,
Turning grey to merry gown.

So let us share this quiet fire,
Pass round the mince pies, toast the year,
For cheer is not a fleeting spark—
It’s Britain’s heart, forever near.