England My England
Beryl Bovine-Pratt (Mrs)
Goodbye to my England, So long my old friend
Your days are numbered, being brought to an end
To be Scottish, Irish or Welsh that's fine
But don't say you're English, that's way out of line.
The French and the Germans may call themselves such
So may Norwegians, the Swedes and the Dutch
You can say you are Russian or maybe a Dane
But don't say you're English ever again.
At Broadcasting House the word is taboo
In Brussels it's scrapped, in Parliament too
Even schools are affected. Staff do as they're told
They must not teach children about England of old.
Writers like Shakespeare, Milton and Shaw
The pupils don't learn about them anymore
How about Agincourt, Hastings, Arnhem or Mons?
When England lost hosts of her very brave sons.
We are not Europeans, how can we be?
Europe is miles away, over the sea
We're the English from England , let's all be proud
Stand up and be counted - Shout it out loud!
Let's tell our Government and Brussels too
We're proud of our heritage and the Red, White and Blue
Fly the flag of Saint George or the Union Jack
Let the world know - WE WANT OUR ENGLAND BACK!!!!
England? Whose England?
(In response to the above)
Why say “Goodbye, England”? Where have you been?
Your old days are numbered. You are a Has Been.
You have been (or thought you were) top of the lot;
Top of Wales, Ireland, Scotland… but that you were not.
You thought that when Britain interfered in the world
And in strange foreign lands the flag was unfurled
That the Cross of Saint George was the only one there.
Well Bollocks! That cross wasn’t even half of a pair
There was Saint Andrew’s flag and Saint Patrick’s as well
And the Welsh; the Red Dragon. Well that went to Hell.
It’s not England, my friend, which should go on forever
There are three other parts, equally or more clever.
Don’t say you’re English? Well yes, I agree:
Unless you mean English; there’s a difference, you see.
When the English say English, they frequently claim
Things that are British, and that’s not quite the same.
And why do you think that Auntie B.B.C.
Has dropped the word English by some strange decree?
I’ve heard England or English being bandied about
In discussion of football thugs and lager louts
In school, no restrictions on what there is taught
Whether agrarian reform, or old battles fought
Except, now, you’ll find in historical lists
That other nations matter; not only England exists.
Oh! Listen, poor soul, who penned this sad verse.
Your poetry was turgid, but your reasoning worse;
Extolling England’s great writers, e.g. George Bernard Shaw
My friend, Shaw was Irish, I suggest you withdraw!
And Statesmen and Generals, why didn’t you say
How our “Great English Soldiers” all carried the day:
Perhaps Wellington, the Iron Duke, General and P.M.
But he was from Ireland… and there are far more of them.
Disraeli was not from those Golden Few:
Neither English, Scots, Welsh nor Irish… but a Jew.
And of our greatest statesmen, recall, if you can;
Our Winston Churchill’s mother was American.
Britain’s in Europe, so don’t be deluded
It’s a group of islands off its coast; not secluded
In Glorious Isolation as you so allege;
It clings to Continental Europe… just on the edge!
Even our Royals, they that rule and have ruled you,
Weren’t one tiny bit English, not one bit, you poor fool, you.
The Tudors were Welsh; their predecessors Normans
The Stuarts were Scots; then came Dutchmen and Germans.
So yes, I agree, tell the powers that be
That you’re proud of your country; and you’re glad to be free.
But with privilege goes responsibility to all souls, they say;
And labels and names often get in the way.
So forget all this carping and putting the blame
On others because you feel that a name
Has been taken away from you. It’s not a disgrace.
Just face it…We’re a very small part of the whole Human Race.
The above is an advertisement for Dulcie cards.
All names & addresses are purely fictional; any similarities between persons, living or dead are coincidental & the product of a deranged mind.
We are sorry to admit that this page is an obvious plagiarism of the dreadful little verse which was doing the rounds on the Internet recently.
Although our Dear Mrs Bovine-Pratt’s mind runs on these lines, she certainly isn’t as rabid as the person who penned the original.
We thought we would write an equally puerile reply (If the Residents of a Retirrment Home can be considered puerile)
The Egalitarian Girls of Twilight Lawns
(Names withheld to protect our safety).