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sullivanthepoet.com
Member

since 2007-06-28

Posts 154
Devon, England

0 posted 2008-09-12 09:31 AM

Oh, Albion! Proud Albion,
how is Britannia fell;
Where heaven’s stairway once ascend,
stands now the gate to hell!
You! Parliament! Where first was born,
come forth; Behold her womb;
All sterile now and festered through,
as foul as any tomb!

Fair land where borne Iceni loins,
birthed wet on English soil;
A bronze cast maid with blood of fire,
to Nero’s hordes despoil.
Oh Boudica! Wild warrior queen,
could you but see her now;
Would you have spilled your blood so free,
to save this grunting sow?

This earth Pendragon set aflame,
to scourge the Saxon tide;
And vengeance write in fire and steel,
his knights cleaved to his side.
Would you proud king forsake your rest,
or stir your blade its sheath;
To champion once more this land,
this realm of cheat and thief?

Would Richard call his Templars wake,
from death exhume his steed;
For take again an English soil,
steeped rank with lust and greed.
To save a realm where ancient foes,
dictate our English laws;
Where Scots and lackeys ply her crown,
and cowards stretch their craws.

Might Drake command his tars awake,
forsake their briny grave;
To beat again his blood tuned drum,
this sorry sphere to save?
His Hoe where foreign colours fly,
sweet Devon at their feet;
Where Spanish flags lay ‘gainst his dock,
and Frenchmen berth their fleet.

Or Churchill yet; His grave aspin,
desert his rest to rise;
To see this land ‘For heroes’ fit,
spread squalid ‘fore his eyes?
Each English ‘beach and field and street’,
for which those valiants fought;
To every nation’s wanton tide,
give cheap away; For nought!

Where once was forged of ice and flame,
afire in star struck steel;
All etched on that eternal blade,
was ‘Albion’ reveal.
Quick nemesis against that time,
we turn its edge to war;
Lies rusting now, deep notched and dull,
upon her crypt’s dank floor.

Should empires all be doomed this fate,
made peasant nations all;
Must England yet, stripped of her jewels,
to this same languor fall?
Held ransom foreign leeches too,
by alien tics bled dry;
While ministers with spines of clay,
stand cowed and fearful by.

This ‘Land of hope and glory’ once,
sunk broken to her knees;
Infest with knave and zealot both,
as thick as rats bear fleas.
And not a leader worth the name,
to raise her to her feet;
Or alderman worth half his salt,
defend an English street.

Now comes the hour; Where comes the man,
to free the blade its sheath;
And raise again quick ‘Albion’,
lay bare its razor teeth?
To set Britannia’s heart arace,
and gorge those veins with flame;
Cleave free her ill forged foreign chains,
this sceptred Isle reclaim.

Lay hard again our ancient lien,
upon this hallowed soil;
Full tall those giants’ shoulders stand,
and honour them their toil.
Raise high St. George’s blood red cross,
and keep you proud his day;
That those who gave their English hearts,
shall never pass away.

Then bid once more this bulldog breed,
wake snarling from its rest;
And hear the gods of thunder roll,
within its mighty chest.
To seize dominion o’er our lives,
our land, our sea, our sky;
Or twenty million Englishmen,
will know the reason why!

© Sullivan the Poet 2008

www.sullivanthepoet.co.uk

WTBAKELAR

Senior Member

since 2008-09-09

Posts 1089
Utah, USA

1 posted 2008-09-12 10:21 AM

BRAVO, BRAVO!!! How strong and well spoken. Wonderful history and forsight. Bravo.

sullivanthepoet.com
Member

since 2007-06-28

Posts 154
Devon, England

2 posted 2008-09-12 01:05 PM

Thanks for that guy - much appreciated... I am flattered you enjoyed it so.
http://www.sullivanthepoet.co.uk

www.sullivanthepoet.co.uk

Marchmadness
Member Rara Avis

since 2007-09-16

Posts 9271
So. El Monte, California

3 posted 2008-09-12 02:06 PM

I absolutely love this this firey, historical piece for I am a great fan of English history. The command of language is superb. Anyone with a drop of English blood knows that no matter how bad things look, There will always be an England.
Ida

TheAnonDavid
Member

since 2008-08-28

Posts 237
UK

4 posted 2008-09-12 04:06 PM

I have read this poem and others on Mr Sullivan's web-site. I applaud the use of the language and the heroic fashion of the poems themselves. It is indeed gratifying that poetry, as we remember it, is still alive.
However, I am concerned at the jingoistic "There'll aways be an England" gung ho attitude. I shall not engage in a political debate but it is a sad sign of the times when innocent emblems such as the flag of St. George and the Union Flag have been hijacked by movements which would turn England (and indeed other countries where such nationalistic fervour stirs) into a frightening place to dwell; where appeals to the upstanding heroes of yesterday are used as if to endorse the sinister messages which lie beneath the surface.
I shall end by saying that I applaud Mr Sullivan's style but I will not be rallying to his "God for Harry, England and St. George" cry.

Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Dylan Thomas

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