Where Anglos Tred
A poem that was written for the BARDs literature group "Love of Your Land" competition. You can't change history. You can't change blood.
I. Seas Rush
Six millennia BC, an Atlantic peninsular breaks free
The Doggerland cord is cleaved, as waters fill our Northern sea
Separated forever from the continent’s placenta
Hyperborea has its day, the seas become our passageway
Too strong, too blesséd to be conquered, Apollo’s favour was not squandered
Mesolithic isolation: inception of our island nation
Hunter-gatherers paint their caves with mega-fauna and dig graves
Neolithics plant their seeds; while fowling, fishing in the seas
The land beneath our feet is tamed, culture blooms, maritime trade
Bronze age culture crosses seas, warrior aristocracies
Britons, Picts and Hibernii, seed Celtic tongues’ linguistic tree
Bards recount our mythic legends while Druidic wisdom ascends
II. Land Rush
Romans come with roads and wars, their legions cross the sea from Gaul
Foreign blood to man the wall, they barely interbred at all
Leaving just fortifications, untouched genes for generations
Cousin Saxons settled down, Vikings plundered then built towns
Arthur’s dragons held them back, slowed the invaders’ attack
United Anglo-Saxon lands under High King Æthelstan
1066, the last invasion to hybridise our island nation
Norman nobles took the crown. Our lineage now settled down
Foreign rulers interbreed, the common man maintains the seed
This heritage of innovation makes empire of our sea-girthed nation
We span the globe with one intention: improve the world by our invention
The sun was said to never set on the empire of the Occident
III. Windrush
In forty-eight, a cargo of confusion washes on our shore
And we are told we didn’t build our nation anymore
Borders now an open door for peoples never seen before
A nation built by newcomers is disingenuous wisdom
As clusters deep within our blood still mirror ancient kingdoms
Genotypes from primal times flow in our Britannic bloodlines
Cheddar fraud now dogs our land. As augured, they hold the whip hand
Unasked for, globalists command, “Become the whole world’s promised land!”
They claim our blood and soil ignoring our ancestral toil
New arrivals build their ghettos, despite the lies the mainstream echoes
Diversity has built our land! They come, they claim, they bite the hand
However much they take, we will rebuild Jerusalem. The Saxon will awake.
Beautiful!
Outstanding..