To England

The Union Jack has tattered down,
The dragon has come crawling,
The King has given up his crown,
The Lady’s sword is calling.

To raise the bloody bars again,
And set St. George to flying,
You are oppressed by heathen men,
Your daughters raped and dying.

You are beset by foreign foes,
Your cities rank and fetid,
Was this for what your fathers go,
To death unregretted.

So raise the bloody bars again,
And set St. George to flying,
To have no more of heathen men,
And daughters raped and dying.

Are you the race whence Alfred came,
Of Constantine and Herewald,
Of Wellinton and Nelson’s fame
Of Clive of Ind and Harald?

So raise the bloody bars again,
And see St. George aflying,
To have no more of heathen men,
Your children dead and dying.

Now Heaven’s gates are open wide
To those who fight the dragon,
And those whom with the faith abide,
Find life in Arthur’s flagon.

So raise the bloody bars again,
And like St. George go flying,
To wreck havock on heathen men,
And leave the dragon dying.

---

Didn't make the cut:

This is the loam that is your own,
Of Richard and of Robin.
If John Lackland sulks on the throne,
Why oughtn’t you to rob him?

---