The cache is not at the above co-ordinates: the site of St Paul's Cathedral, which is perhaps the most famous church designed by Sir Christopher Wren. You can find lots of information about that in the descriptions for caches based there, so I won't repeat it here, but it's long been a symbol of London(er)'s resilience: rising from the ashes of The Great Fire of London, keeping calm and carrying on during the Blitz and as the site for the Occupy Movement more recently. Don't Worry about going there for the sake of this one, but it is well worth a visit for itself, and I love suddenly catching a view of it from all across London.
Instead I want to tell you about another wren, in a story that's found in many cultures around the world. Back in the day there was chaos in the world of the birds, so they decided to hold a flying competition to determine a leader. The penguins and ostriches weren't too keen on this idea, and protested loudly at its unfairness, but they were overruled. So the birds all took off, and did their best. The partridges and grouse could only manage a short burst of fast flight before heading back towards the ground. The small birds such as the robin and the sparrow were the next to fall away. The rest went as high as they could, but after time they too grew tired and fell away, until only the eagle was left circling high above the rest. Just as he was about to declare himself the winner, a wee wren fluttered out from beneath his wing and climbed up above him. And that's how the wren became the King of Birds.
The cache can be found at N51 31.(A-B)C(D+F) W000 06.EF(H-G) where:
A: And the waves swell like a barley field that's ready to lay down
B Flying saucers on the shore, She sees disco lights and diamonds, Bold Orion's sword
C I'm bruised by the early morning, I hear the whole house breathing
D: The people start to sing, to light glory in the dark, to ring the bell, and to breathe hope in every heart
E: I would trade in the view from this mountainside for some tiny little molehills
F: And there he builds his own cathedral, and in every whirring wing, he can hear the whole world sing
G: I was Farrah Fawcett, you were Steve McQueen, And we rode your silver Grifter half the way from Aberdeen
H: At the head of the path you laugh as a lone blackbird begins to sing
CONGRATULATIONS TO NICODAEMUS FOR THE FTF!