Do you remember how we felt 45 years ago?
Our hopes were high. How could they end up so low?
We found your letters, full of sadness, hope, and even wisdom.
You found our ripped-up copy of the Treaty of Lisbon.
The end has come,
Our time is done,
Nothing left to do but go.
One final sigh,
One last goodbye,
But there's one thing you should know:
Forty-eight per cent of us love you.
We were different from the start. You liked a sponge, but we preferred a flannel.
When we said, 'We need some space,' you said, 'You've got The Channel.'
Life seems much more crowded now than back when we were new.
There's only of us but there's 27 of you.
Now in my head
There's things we said
That I'm sure we both regret.
You'll surely say,
'You walked away,'
But you never should forget
