Fragrant Harbour nestling, beneath China's yellow land.
Last outpost of Empire,
Queen Victoria's barren rock.
Bustling city of millions,
Star Ferries and the trams.
Up The Peak the steep railway runs,
to stand above the skyscrapers,
and look down on Kowloon.
The monkeys chatter in the zoo,
the trams rattle on through Wan Chai,
and Central.
In Government House,
the last Governor prepares,
for the sun to finally set.
On this last outpost of Empire,
as Britain lowers the Union Flag.
Stanley Military Cemetery,
the white headstones,
row upon row.
Where the heroes who defended this island,
sleep far from their native home.
The trams rattle on through Central,
Britannia lies at anchor in Victoria Harbour.
Incense slowly burning in Man Mo Temple.
The caged birds sing in the Mongkok bird market.
As the noon-day gun fires.
The rain beats down,
shops and restaurants fill.
Steaming bowls of noodles.
The neon signs in the crowded streets flicker.
Life goes on in Hong Kong.
What future then for Hong Kong?
Once the ceremonies are complete.
As Britain hands back it's island colony,
the flag is lowered,
and the Governor departs.
There must be many at home and abroad,
who are thinking.
Remember Tiananmen Square?
