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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408599" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Cromwell</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">They took dead Cromwell from his grave,<br>And stuck his head on high;<br>The Merry Monarch and his men,<br>They laughed as they passed by<br>The common people cheered and jeered,<br>To England’s deep disgrace—<br>The crowds who’d ne’er have dared to look<br>Live Cromwell in the face. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">He came in England’s direst need<br>With law and fire and sword,<br>He thrashed her enemies at home<br>And crushed her foes abroad;<br>He kept his word by sea and land,<br>His parliament he schooled,<br>He made the nations understand<br>A Man in England ruled! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Van Tromp, with twice the English ships,<br>And flushed by victory—<br>A great broom to his masthead bound—<br>Set sail to sweep the sea.<br>But England’s ruler was a man<br>Who needed lots of room—<br>So Blake soon lowered the Dutchman’s tone,<br>And smashed the Dutchman’s broom. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">He sent a bill to Tuscany<br>For sixty thousand pounds,<br>For wrong done to his subjects there,<br>And merchants in her bounds.<br>He sent by Debt Collector Blake,<br>And—you need but be told<br>That, by the Duke of Tuscany<br>That bill was paid in gold. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">To pirate ports in Africa<br>He sent a message grim<br>To have each captured Englishman<br>Delivered up to him;<br>And every ship and cargo’s worth,<br>And every boat and gun—<br>And this—all this, as Dickens says—<br>“Was gloriously done.” </div><div style="margin:10px 0">They’d tortured English prisoners<br>Who’d sailed the Spanish Main;<br>So Cromwell sent a little bill<br>By Admiral Blake to Spain.<br>To keep his hand in, by the way.<br>He whipped the Portuguese;<br>And he made it safe for English ships<br>To sail the Spanish seas. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Protestants in Southern lands<br>Had long been sore oppressed;<br>They sent their earnest prayers to Noll<br>To have their wrongs redressed.<br>He sent a message to the Powers,<br>In which he told them flat,<br>All men must praise God as they chose,<br>Or he would see to that. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And, when he’d hanged the fools at home<br>And settled foreign rows,<br>He found the time to potter round<br>Amongst his pigs and cows.<br>Of private rows he never spoke,<br>That grand old Ironsides.<br>They said a father’s strong heart broke<br>When Cromwell’s daughter died. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">(They dragged his body from its grave,<br>His head stuck on a pole,<br>They threw his wife’s and daughter’s bones<br>Into a rubbish hole<br>To rot with those of two who’d lived<br>And fought for England’s sake,<br>And each one in his own brave way—<br>Great Pym, and Admiral Blake.) </div><div style="margin:10px 0">From Charles to Charles, throughout the world<br>Old England’s name was high,<br>And that’s a thing no Royalist<br>Could ever yet deny.<br>Long shameful years have passed since then,<br>In spite of England’s boast—<br>But Englishmen were Englishmen,<br>While Cromwell carved the roast. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And, in my country’s hour of need—<br>For it shall surely come,<br>While run by fools who’ll never heed<br>The beating of the drum.<br>While baffled by the fools at home,<br>And threatened from the sea—<br>Lord! send a man like Oliver—<br>And let me live to see.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Lawson">Henry Lawson</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408599" data-title="Cromwell de Henry Lawson" data-description="They took dead Cromwell from his grave,
And stuck his head on high;
The Merry Monarch and his men,
They laughed as they passed by
The common people cheered and jeered,
To England’s deep disgrace—
The crowds who’d ne’er have dared to look
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