Blood and Soil

Whence one asks me of my soil
Eyes verdant with hair flaxen,
Hearty folk triumphed through toil,
I am proud to be a Saxon.

You see all that which lays before,
This great third of isle,
Belongs to us I can assure,
We’ve been here quite a while.

Our roots grown like ageing oak,
All the way to rock,
Of kings and poets and seekers they spoke,
Related Anglo stock

North wind provides a cadence,
Coastline breaths as we do,
Provided familiar fragrance,
Churning seas as it blew.

Cradled coy in wooded hills,
With valleys all the plenty,
Rivers harnessed for our mills,
As cattle grazes gently.

Ostara smiles upon this realm,
Bounding hare beckons,
Crescent moon illumed the elm,
Domain of natures reckon.

We be sown within this land,
Gestured at by willows,
Raised proud by my fathers hand,
Whom showed me golden meadows.

Ages past, we moulded strong,
The wicked we despise,
Renowned acclaim to us belongs,
True kinsmen honest and wise.

Knights of lions rode afar,
Men beset in splendour,
Sheathed in plate baring no scars,
With mighty blade we render.

Heralded kings divine in right,
Ordained to lead us forth,
Regal bloodline flows with might,
Majesties of the north.

Alfred was a saint in part,
Fearless facing peril,
A home called England in his heart,
Against invaders feral.

Spread this word far and wide,
That we exist conceited,
England lives I tell you true,
Not yet are we defeated.

~ Written by E.Robert