Last Hurrah for the Magna Carta (at least until 2115?)

A Wraysbury resident has already produced some comic verses on the Magna Carta, in't style o' Stanley Holloway's "T' Lion and Albert." So I never did anything with my own little poem, which is a take off of Kipling's "The Reeds at Runnymede." You probably haven't missed much, and if you are averse to verse, look away now! But here it is anyway...

At Wraysbury!

At Runnymede, at Runnymede,
What say the reeds at Runnymede?
Now listen closely, lend an ear –
those reeds have changed their tune, I fear,
since Kipling's day – "It was not here,
But Wraysbury!"

At Ankerwycke, at Ankerwycke,
What says the yew at Ankerwycke?
For lying reeds will bend and sway
with every breeze that blows their way,
But steadfast stands our yew today:
And she's stood here two thousand years
and more, and witnessed angry peers
Confront King John with his worst fears –
At Wraysbury!

At Wraysbury, at Wraysbury,
For here it was at Wraysbury.
So let us pay no longer heed
to reedy tales of Runnymede,
for here was curbed a monarch's greed.
Here a stout band of English knights
with jumped up Johnnie in their sights
Won for the world immortal rights -
At Wraysbury!

Now Rudyard Kipling, you've a line
(I own I think it rather fine)
Where John is grimly forced to sign
At Runnymede.
O Rudyard! At your ruddy error
We scream with rage, we faint with terror:
Our shaken senses from us steal:
We pinch ourselves – can this be real?
Hear our indignant chairman squeal,
"John did not SIGN! He used his SEAL!"
At WRAYSBURY!

O Mr Kipling! Goodness sakes!
Your work is riddled with mistakes.
You should have stuck to making cakes…

image from BBC "your paintings" via Google Images UK