For England

This once noble Island with forests of green,

And carpets of grass like you never have seen,

Once home to Legends and Knights of The Realm,

Now stutters and cowers and bows to the world.

Oh what has become of our Island so fair?

Now sullied and downtrodden, living in fear,

I yearn for those halcyon days of the past,

When my beautiful England stood tall and steadfast.

Those stout folk of Harlech were brothers back then,

And Scotland's proud Armies did bolster our ken,

But now they have parted with no fare thee well,

And Union Jack lies in tatters instead.

Fair weather Allies lie plotting with glee,

Euphoric that England has bended the knee,

And in the New World seeds of terror are sewn,

While England's new rulers look out for their own.

Oh what shall become of our children and homes,

While plotters and perverts walk freely along,

Those streets once secure under Sheriff's stern gaze,

Are only safe now for a while through the day.

I call upon Arthur; return to your seat,

And ready your table the Knights for to meet,

And restore our fair isle to the glories of yore, Remember your promise, England and Saint George.