Does Haughty Gaul Invasion Threat?
Does haughty Gaul invasion threat?
Then let the louns beware, Sir;
There's wooden walls upon our seas,
And volunteers on shore, Sir:
The Nith shall run to Corsincon,
And Criffel sink in Solway,
Ere we permit a Foreign Foe
On British ground to rally!
We'll ne'er permit a Foreign Foe
On British ground to rally!
O let us not, like snarling curs,
In wrangling be divided,
Till, slap! come in an unco loun,
And wi' a rung decide it!
Be Britain still to Britain true,
Amang ourselves united;
For never but by British hands
Maun British wrangs be righted!
No! never but by British hands
Shall British wrangs be righted!
The Kettle o' the Kirk and State,
Perhaps a clout may fail in't;
But deil a foreign tinkler loun
Shall ever ca'a nail in't.
Our father's blude the Kettle bought,
And wha wad dare to spoil it;
By Heav'ns! the sacrilegious dog
Shall fuel be to boil it!
By Heav'ns! the sacrilegious dog
Shall fuel be to boil it!
The wretch that would a tyrant own,
And the wretch, his true-born brother,
Who would set the Mob aboon the Throne,
May they be damn'd together!
Who will not sing "God save the King,"
Shall hang as high's the steeple;
But while we sing "God save the King,"
We'll ne'er forget The People!
But while we sing "God save the King,"
We'll ne'er forget The People!
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Related quotes
1899-1902 (Cavatina Sequence) (In Answer To A. E. Housman)
From the Orange Free State to the Transvaal
farms and towns burn,
from concentration camps women, children,
do not return,
up in the hillocks European farmers fight;
not taciturn
Emily Hobhouse does expose some ills,
many innocents the British do kill.
Hard driven men who read the word of God
fight very brave,
hear the British sing their God save their Queen;
they cannot save
some twenty thousand women and children,
but they do crave
for freedom and for a place of their own,
are forced to swear loyal to the crown.
After that bitter war they have to sing
'God save the queen, '
return to decimated farms and towns,
their pain unseen,
impoverished they make a living,
for peace are keen;
to today their kinsmen do not forget,
in God's record His punishment is set.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The British Way Of Life
The British people have a good sense of humour
They like to strive on gossip and rumours
I like the British way of life
It can be stressful at times but they don’t dwell on strife
Britain is a country of multi-culture
People from all countries came to the UK for a better future
The British culture is embraced all over
Once ago the UK was the world shaker and mover
English people like to have a party
They will drink and get drunk
But they are generous and like to give money to fight poverty
The UK is a fun loving nation
They embrace multi culturism
But some ethnic group don’t do integration
poem by Clifton Cameron
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The Quickening
Sir Francis Bacon had a great vision
Of establishing again a New Atlantis
Planned n’ launched British invasion
Ate everything, like voracious Mantis
Freemasons broke free of their King
Framed and signed the Constitution
For show, refused kiss George’s ring
Stealth monarchy was their solution
Then till now Presidents get appointed
Groomed n’ schooled are they to lead
Masons tied to England duly anointed
Steady to “New World Order” proceed
Dear brothers’ be ye no longer fooled
America has always been British ruled
“God save us from the Queen”
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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Indian Mutiniy
British infants who were nobly born
Were from their bleeding mother's bosom torn
And with the bayonet dashed upon the street
There left to lie for native dogs to eat.
But the British Lion he soon o'erthrew
Both the high and the low Hindoo ;
Now they respect the Christian laws
For fear of British Lion's paws.
poem by James McIntyre
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We'll Let You Know
How sad are we ?
And how sad have we been ?
We'll let you know
We'll let you know
Oh, but only if - you're really interested
You wonder how
We've stayed alive 'till now
We'll - we'll let you know
We'll let you know
Ah, but only if - you're really interested
We're all smiles
Then, honest, i swear, it's the turnstiles
That make us hostile
Over there ...
Over there, over there
Over there ...
Over there ...
We will descend
On anyone unable to defend
Themselves
Over there ...
Over there, over there
Over there
Over there
And the songs we sing
They're not supposed to mean a thing
La, la, la, la ...
Over there
Oh ...
You're lonely
Oh ... you're lonely
Oh ...
Your arsenal !
We may seem cold, or
We may even be
The most depressing people you've ever known
At heart, what's left, of course we know
That we are the last truly british people you'll ever know
We are the last truly british people that you wouldn't want to know
Oh, so ...
song performed by by Morrissey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Great Three
At one time when the country was ruled by creul british
there came the Tremendous three
who were on mission to make our country free
they distributed templates
to stop their mission
the british called simon commission
they knew it was test of the best
against simon they made protest
but it proved them costly
as their leader was beaten by sticks
furious by their behaviour
it was time to teach british lesson
The officer guilty deserved the punishment
it was justice
After some days
once again the british at its creulity
for their pleasure
they were going with train of treasure
the Revolutionaries decide to do justice
they steal the train
The british pass bill
which made sure that the farmers will not get justice
it was test of best
as they protest
in the Assembly they throw bomb
the british catch the tremendous three
the punishment they get is hanged till death
but fear is stranger to them
as they happily hang themselves
and they still say
long live the revolution
vande mataram
I proud to be indian
poem by Rohan Bendre
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Psalm 67
The nation's prosperity, and the church's increase.
Shine, mighty God, on Britain shine,
With beams of heav'nly grace;
Reveal thy power through all our coasts,
And show thy smiling face.
[Amidst our isle, exalted high,
Do thou our glory stand,
And, like a wall of guardian fire,
Surround the fav'rite land.]
When shall thy name, from shore to shore,
Sound all the earth abroad;
And distant nations know and love
Their Savior and their God?
Sing to the Lord, ye distant lands,
Sing loud with solemn voice;
While British tongues exalt his praise,
And British hearts rejoice.
He, the great Lord, the sovereign Judge,
That sits enthroned above,
Wisely commands the worlds he made
In justice and in love.
Earth shall obey her Maker's will,
And yield a full increase;
Our God will crown his chosen isle
With fruitfulness and peace.
God the Redeemer scatters round
His choicest favors here,
While the creation's utmost bound
Shall see, adore, and fear.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 47
Christ ascending and reigning.
O for a shout of sacred joy
To God the sovereign King!
Let every land their tongues employ,
And hymns of triumph sing.
Jesus our God ascends on high,
His heav'nly guards around
Attend him rising through the sky,
With trumpets' joyful sound.
While angels shout and praise their King,
Let mortals learn their strains;
Let all the earth his honors sing;
O'er all the earth he reigns.
Rehearse his praise with awe profound,
Let knowledge lead the song,
Nor mock him with a solemn sound
Upon a thoughtless tongue.
In Isr'el stood his ancient throne,
He loved that chosen race;
But now he calls the world his own,
And heathens taste his grace.
The British islands are the Lord's,
There Abraham's God is known;
While powers and princes, shields and swords,
Submit before his throne.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Canadian born
We first saw light in Canada, the land beloved of God;
We are the pulse of Canada, its marrow and its blood:
And we, the men of Canada, can face the world and brag
That we were born in Canada beneath the British flag.
Few of us have the blood of kings, few are of courtly birth,
But few are vagabonds or rogues of doubtful name and worth;
And all have one credential that entitles us to brag--
That we were born in Canada beneath the British flag.
We've yet to make our money, we've yet to make our fame,
But we have gold and glory in our clean colonial name;
And every man's a millionaire if only he can brag
That he was born in Canada beneath the British flag.
No title and no coronet is half so proudly worn
As that which we inherited as men Canadian born.
We count no man so noble as the one who makes the brag
That he was born in Canada beneath the British flag.
The Dutch may have their Holland, the Spaniard have his Spain,
The Yankee to the south of us must south of us remain;
For not a man dare lift a hand against the men who brag
That they were born in Canada beneath the British flag.
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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Appeasement For Adolf Hitler
The price of peace
appeasement
appeasing Adolf Hitler
will never work.
Was Neville Chamberlain
falling on his held sword
stalling an act to buy time;
or naive guillible ready...
to buy peace at any cost?
The British Prime Minister
left Munich believing
that in appeasing Hitler;
“he had assured
'peace for our time'”?
Both Britain and France
pursued a foreign policy
of political appeasement;
in their desperate hope
that Hitler would not drag
Europe into a new world war.
What was appeasement?
Appeasement expressed
a consensus widespread
collective British desire;
to heal the horrific wounds
of raw recent World War I.
Appeasement expressed
a consensus widespread
collective British desire;
to correct what many
British officials regarded;
as the injustices of
punitive reparations;
in the Versailles Treaty.
Remember their were
officials who regarded
a powerful Germany;
as a necessary desirable
bulwark against communism;
a feared rising Soviet Union.
Heartbreaking growing anxiety;
“horrible, fantastic, incredible”
digging trenches trying on gas
masks because of a quarrel;
in a far-away foreign country
“between people of whom
we know nothing. It seems
still more impossible that
a quarrel which has already
been settled in principle
should be the subject of war.”
Almost overwhelming fear
a dark gloomy oppression
afflicted some Europeans;
as realities grim spectre a new
modern devastating war loomed.
Over 20,0000 letters telegrams
had arrived at No.10, Downing
Street since Neville Chamberlain;
had gone to Berchtesgaden mostly
British mothers sisters but letters;
also from France, Belgium, Italy,
even Germany. Alas too soon, such
letters reveal an intense relief thinking
danger of war was appeasement past.
Was Neville Chamberlain
falling on his sacrifice sword
stalling; an act to buy time...
to prepare Britain for war?
The emergency had cast an intense light
upon British preparations for defense;
on their strength weakness. Chamberlain
ordered an immediate inquiry into all;
preparations, military civil, to strengthen
deficiencies in the shortest possible time.
During those remaining hectic days an
awakening Britain prepared for Hitler.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Grand British Brew
I declare unto you there's a brew that is true,
Golden brown until we make it white;
It's drunk in the morning, it's drunk after noon,
In the evening, and also at night.
The procedure to make this infusion
Is quite ceremonial in China;
But this king of all drinks well deserves it,
To be honest there's just nothing finer.
Some take it with milk, some take it without,
Then the question is: 'One lump or two? '
But whatever the colour or sweetness of taste,
You can't beat The Grand British Brew.
If your preference is for the Darjeeling,
Earl grey or 'P.G.' or 'Typhoo, '
It makes not a farthing of difference,
You're choosing The Grand British Brew.
Now the yankees would drown us in coffee,
The fed's, in their wisdom, would too;
But that bean is a poor substitution
For the leaf in The Grand British Brew.
I've tried every other refreshment
That the world has to offer to me,
But I find myself always returning
To the brew that is true: to my tea.
Written Oct 1994
poem by John Carter Brown
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From pools of blood
From pools of blood bushes, trees
and aloes grow in the veldt
where British soldiers
fired on my countrymen
and some bayoneted them.
Concentration camps where twenty thousand
women and children died without dignity
at the hand of foreigners,
who claimed to be fellow Christians
are now covered with grass
and that past are being blotted out
as if the misery, the indignity,
the mass murder
never happened
and great Queen Victoria
is still dignified
and still I hold Great Britain responsible
for the murder of my great grand mother,
for the destruction
of my great grand father’s farm,
for the seizure
of my other great grand father’s property,
for sending him to St. Helena
as a prisoner of war,
for invading my country
for making profit from the minerals
and the quarter Scotsman in me
together with my three quarters Afrikaner parts
forever wants to be free
from the enslavement
which that foreign nation brought.
[Note: My own great grandmother died in a British concentration camp and my great grandfather was sent by the British to St. Helena as a prisoner of war and as a result of this, my grandfather(Gert Strydom) grew up in a orphanage.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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When I was a child in the 1940s and early 1950s, my parents and grandparents spoke of Britain as home, and New Zealand had this strong sense of identity and coherence as being part of the commonwealth and a the identity of its people as being British.
quote by Michael King
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Arms! (II)
Now let the cry, ``To Arms! To Arms!''
Go ringing round the world;
And swift a wave-wide Empire swarms
Round Battleflag unfurled!
Wherever glitters Britain's might,
Or Britain's banner flies,
Leap up mailed myriads with the light
Of manhood in their eyes;
Calling from farmstead, mart, and strand,
``We come! And we! And we!
That British steel may hold the land,
And British keels the sea!''
From English hamlet, Irish hill,
Welsh hearths, and Scottish byres,
They throng to show that they are still
Sons worthy of their sires:
That what these did, we still can do,
That what they were, we are,
Whose fathers fought at Waterloo,
And died at Trafalgar!
Shoulder to shoulder see them stand,
Wherever menace be,
To guard the lordship of the land
And the Trident of the sea.
Nor in the parent Isle alone
Spring squadrons from the ground;
Canadian shore and Austral zone
With kindred cry resound:
``From shimmering plain and snow-fed stream,
Across the deep we come,
Seeing the British bayonets gleam,
Hearing the British drum.
Foot in the stirrup, hilt in hand,
Free men, to keep men free,
All, all will help to hold the land
While England guards the sea!''
Comrades in arms, from every shore
Where thundereth the main,
On to the front they press and pour
To face the rifles' rain;
To force the foe from covert crag,
And chase them till they fall,
Then plant for ever England's Flag
Upon the rebel wall!
What! Wrench the Sceptre from her hand,
And bid her bow the knee!
Not while her Yeomen guard the land,
And her ironclads the sea!
poem by Alfred Austin
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The riders of the plains
Who is it lacks the knowledge? Who are the curs that dare
To whine and sneer that they do not fear the whelps in the Lion's lair?
But we of the North will answer, while life in the North remains,
Let the curs beware lest the whelps they dare are the Riders of the Plains;
For these are the kind whose muscle makes the power of the Lion's jaw,
And they keep the peace of our people and the honour of British law.
A woman has painted a picture,--'tis a neat little bit of art
The critics aver, and it roused up for her the love of the big British heart.
'Tis a sketch of an English bulldog that tigers would scarce attack,
And round and about and beneath him is painted the Union Jack.
With its blaze of colour, and courage, its daring in every fold,
And underneath is the title, "What we have we'll hold."
'Tis a picture plain as a mirror, but the reflex it contains
Is the counterpart of the life and heart of the Riders of the Plains;
For like to that flag and that motto, and the power of that bulldog's jaw,
They keep the peace of our people and the honour of British law.
These are the fearless fighters, whose life in the open lies,
Who never fail on the prairie trail 'neath the Territorial skies,
Who have laughed in the face of the bullets and the edge of the rebels' steel,
Who have set their ban on the lawless man with his crime beneath their heel;
These are the men who battle the blizzards, the suns, the rains,
These are the famed that the North has named the "Riders of the Plains,"
And theirs is the might and the meaning and the strength of the bulldog's jaw,
While they keep the peace of the people and the honour of British law.
These are the men of action, who need not the world's renown,
For their valour is known to England's throne as a gem in the British crown;
These are the men who face the front, whose courage the world may scan,
The men who are feared by the felon, but are loved by the honest man;
These are the marrow, the pith, the cream, the best that the blood contains,
Who have cast their days in the valiant ways of the Riders of the Plains;
And theirs is the kind whose muscle makes the power of old England's jaw,
And they keep the peace of her people and the honour of British law.
Then down with the cur that questions,--let him slink to his craven den,--
For he daren't deny our hot reply as to "who are our mounted men."
He shall honour them east and westward, he shall honour them south and north,
He shall bare his head to that coat of red wherever that red rides forth.
'Tis well that he knows the fibre that the great North-West contains,
The North-West pride in her men that ride on the Territorial plains,--
For of such as these are the muscles and the teeth in the Lion's jaw,
And they keep the peace of our people and the honour of British law.
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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I don't enjoy British shows as a rule because British audiences are strange.
quote by Andrew Eldritch
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The British soldier can stand up to anything except the British War Office.
quote by George Bernard Shaw
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There are no countries in the world less known by the British than those selfsame British Islands.
quote by George Borrow
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Everyone the world over talks about British actors and British talent and I think that's because we were trained - until now - in theatre.
quote by Brenda Blethyn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Were you to read the British press today, you would learn that the British Empire never forgets its defeats.
quote by Robert Trout
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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