In Medway’s sparkling waters, on the 10th of June,
A Sonata sailing race, a delightful afternoon.
Seven boats set sail, their names echoing the breeze,
Watersong, Red Dwarf, and others, all eager to seize.
Lovely weather greeted them, with force four winds so fair,
As they embarked on a journey, a dance upon the mare.
Down the long course they glided, bound for buoy sixteen,
With sausages of challenge, a thrilling sight to be seen.
Each boat strategized, avoiding the tides’ mighty pull,
Seeking an advantage, keeping their spirits full.
At the windward mark, Red Dwarf closed in with might,
Pressuring Watersong, engaged in a luffing fight.
Spinnakers unfurled, colors painted in the sky,
A spectacle of prowess, sailing spirits soaring high.
Yet misfortune struck Screwloose, their spinnaker entwined,
Around the forestay, their third place now confined.
Musical Express seized the moment, racing with a glee,
Claiming the third spot, setting their spirits free.
But in the end, Watersong triumphed with grace,
Nudging ahead of Red Dwarf, victory’s sweet embrace.
Musical Express, just ahead of Screwloose’s sail,
All boats valiantly raced, leaving stories to regale.
In Medway’s yacht club, this Sonata dance unfurled,
A tale of sailors’ passion, in a world of wind and swirl.
So let the waves remember, and the sea’s memory keep,
The day when seven boats set sail, a memory so deep.
The Sonata race at Medway, an event to be told,
Where boats and sailors danced, their spirits ever bold.