0038 Why I'm ashamed of being British
It was so easy being a British child
in the 1930s:
everything was – or so it seems to memory’s
selective mind - so ordered:
how old was I, when I stopped
raising my school cap
(‘Don’t just touch it, Michael;
lift it! ’) to, not just staff at school,
but anyone to whom my parents talked
or who had talked (‘My, hasn’t he grown! ’
as if this was some personal achievement) to me,
or more likely, over my head, as I
shifted from foot to foot,
trapped in a grown-up world
of politenesses; which however
my mother loved and rightly
as one now raised in her station
from being polite to customers
in grandma’s terrace front-window shop
where homemade cooking was the income
now that the cotton dust had got to grandpa's lungs;
but now the wife of a man retired
at thirty-eight, stone-deaf…
The history books at school were slender – since
we’d won every war – or if some foreigners thought
we hadn’t, it had all the same brought out great courage,
incredible bravery which was a lesson to us all,
fortitude and leadership and deeds
‘ surpassing the call of duty’. We’d even
won wars in places which technically weren’t ours,
called The Empire; over which we ruled
because we did it better than the natives;
because we were born to rule..
And we were taught by haunted heroes who’d fought
in the war to end all wars – the PT instructor
had a face like camouflage, white, greenish, brown and red,
where he’d been mustard-gassed; our heroes
were still close to us, although
they didn’t talk about it much. That was
another lesson in how to be British.
Geography was happy natives
(only the National Geographic Magazine
photographed their tits, and then only if brown)
moving export crops, balancing trade
and the occasional water-pot – which was always full.
And the sun never set on those red bits on the map
which were the British Empire…
How easy it was to be proud of being British,
and to take for granted
that gift of birth, our birthright
which, unearned, we would seek
to earn anew by living up to it..
But then, haven't all of us, by some
trick of space-time unexplained by Einstein,
lived, as a child, in better times – or at least,
if any didn’t, we never heard of them;
or if we did, it was because the missionaries
were putting all that right, if we just simply
put a penny or two in their box, and here’s a flag to pin
on your jacket like some painless medal..
* * *
So, no more nostalgic trips now down that memory lane;
let’s start from now and work backwards
on why I’m currently ashamed, after all these golden years,
to be British; and despite
all that there is left of those things of magnificence –
fair play, free speech, freedom itself,
not yet quite worn away
I’m deeply ashamed this week
that three British subjects,
despite Habeas Corpus, Magna Carta, and the rule of law,
were handed over – and in irons –
without due process of laws promptly promulgated
by reason and humanity; and
if they did indeed steal a million each on paper
yet never charged here, where it occurred,
we can guess that it’s because
such unearned money is
the game of all financial deals,
in City circles, as in other countries…
I’m deeply ashamed as of last year,
that after a history of ‘responding to a request’
and just defence of the oppressed,
we made a pre-emptive strike
in the oily name of exporting democracy
while our governments at home
confuse democracy with ‘spin’; we are the spun
in the woven lies of history.
We have dirtied the name of democracy.
I’m deeply ashamed, as of this decade,
that we have found no way
to enable our uncontrolled immigrant population
to feel as proud of being British as are
Americans of being American;
ashamed that politicians
put party over conscience;
ashamed that – yes, young and old alike -,
we have lost respect for others
both in action or the lack of it;
that ‘neighbour’ is now a mere
geographical location;
that we apologise for or demean our religious sense
in a world where those we fight
are more religious than are we;
and last of all, I’m ashamed
that one day soon we may become
ashamed of being British.
(Please read Tara McHale's poem on the same theme, it's a group effort - or add your own!))
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Related quotes
Walls
Im not ashamed
To say that Ive loved you well
Im not ashamed
To let you know
Im just a name thats all
Scratched upon your wall
Youve used it well but what the hell
Thats what walls are for
Im not ashamed
To listen to the fast-fallin rain
In the morning upon my window
Im not afraid to cry
Im not ashamed to try
To be your friend once again
cause thats whats friends are for
Friends are for sorting out the hang-ups that we hide
Walls are for shutting out the love we feel inside
Im not ashamed no to talk it over once again
To rearrange my vocabulary
But I cant seem to find
Any words to change your mind
Because I left them all behind
And thats what words are for
Words are for explaining the mistakes we might have made
Names are for calling when theres nothing left to say
Im not ashamed, no, to say that Ive loved you well
Im not ashamed, and yet I know
Im just a name, thats all
Scratched upon your wall
Youve used it well, but what the hell
Thats what walls are for
Im not ashamed of wearing out my old grey socks
Chasing you around the back woods
Im not ashamed to darn
Nor to proud to find some yarn
To sew them up once again
cause thats what socks are for
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Three Foot Rule
When I was bound apprentice, and learned to use my hands,
Folk never talked of measures that came from foreign lands:
Now I'm a British Workman, too old to go to school;
So whether the chisel or file I hold, I'll stick to my three-foot rule.
Some talk of millimetres, and some of kilogrammes,
And some of decilitres, to measure beer and drams;
But I'm a British Workman, too old to go to school,
So by pounds I'll eat, and by quarts I'll drink, and I'll work by my three-foot rule.
A party of astronomers went measuring the earth,
And forty million metres they took to be its girth;
Five hundred million inches, though, go through from pole to pole;
So let's stick to inches, feet and yards, and the good old three-foot rule.
poem by William John Macquorn Rankine
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Ashamed
i feel alone... i feel like i could die
i feel alone... i feel like i could die... tonight
carry on carry on
don't feel ashamed.. don't feel ashamed
i rather it be this way
you're not to blame you're not to blame
don't feel ashamed
i'm getting close...
to the other side
just close the door
i'll leave the past behind me
can you see my pride
it's only one step away from
freedom... freedom...
i feel i can fly anywhere with anyone
don't feel ashamed
i rather it be this way
you're not to blame
don't feel ashamed
don't feel ashamed
i rather it be this way
you're not to blame
don't feel ashamed
i love you baby... so don't you feel ashamed!!
song performed by by Tommy Lee from Never A Dull Moment
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm Not Ashamed
I'm not ashamed to call you mine,
I'll scream it out til the end of time.
I'm not ashamed to say I love you,
Why some are I have no clue.
I'll never hide you from my life,
Or to others, even those who strife.
You will be known for who you are,
My loving girl, my shining star.
I'm not ashamed to hold your hand,
To stand beside you as your man.
I'm not ashamed to kiss your lips,
Or wrap my arms around your hips.
No matter who is here with us,
It's not just me, I have a plus.
No matter if they fuss or whine,
I'm not ashamed to call you mine.
poem by Adam McKim
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I Could Never Be Ashamed Of You
Everybody says you let me down
That I should be ashamed to take you round
Makes no difference what you used to do;
Darling, I could never be ashamed of you.
Maybe you were reckless yesterday
But together, we can find a brighter way.
In my heart, I know that youll come through
Darling, I could never be ashamed of you
All the happiness Ive ever known
Came the day you said youd be my own
And it matters not what we go through
Darlin I could never be ashamed of you
Maybe youve been cheated in the past,
And perhaps those memories will always last
Even though you proved to be untrue
Darlin I could never be ashamed of you.
song performed by by Hank Williams
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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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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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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This crazy country
I’m in this crazy country
If I could leave I would go tomorrow never to return
Oh Allah how can I go
From this crazy country
When I do what I do for the sake of Allah
My 1st Daughter
The strong & the brave
She was physically & emotionally abused
Some years ago
Taken from me brought up by another
No one knows why
But
Daughter no.2
She was allowed to stay
To be abused
Physically, emotionally & attempted sexually
With emotional problems
No fear of danger
Her father still free
To abuse another
1son & twin daughters the pain still goes on
He is still free
As free as can be
Daughter no 2 went to a special school
She learned to survive
Not wanting to become a woman
She was ready to come home
Her room was made nice
The sisters helped to decorate
Ready for her return
You made new friends
In your white community
They told you that you are British
Me myself I’m not proud to be half British
I’m ashamed you see at what they do to my family
I am a Muslim from Islam
That’s what maters to me
What happened to what I taught you to believe.
You come from a multi-cultural family
You decided to stay
Not come home how can this be
My child needs her mom
I’m told the law gives her the right to choose in this country
So you god fearing mom’s beware when your child goes to school
In this crazy country
As children suffer & even die
There parents free
Free as can be
Then there is my son child no.3
Taken from me
He is with his father you see
In this crazy country
My son runs to be with me
Now he needs therapy
Just for wanting me
I am a God fearing mom doing all I can for my family
In this crazy country
As I see with my eyes
Hear with my ears
What you do to my Brothers & Sisters in this country
I want to leave & go some place where I can be free
As free as can be
To give my all to people who need me
Oh Allah how can I leave this crazy country
When I do what I do for the sake of Allah
To be there for my family
People try to bring me down for I’m a God fearing mom
Before I go
Leave this crazy country
Remember this
You might be free as free as can be
In this crazy country
But when judgment day comes
Who will be free
As free as can be
Will it be you
Or will it be me?
poem by mariam khan Farah Abdulahi
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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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I am not ashamed of my grandparents for having been slaves. I am only ashamed of myself for having at one time being ashamed.
quote by Ralph Ellison
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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Kohinoor...unlucky stone
I am black unshaped stone
Simple but famous for quality alone
When cut to size may assume name of diamond
All envy keen interest and passion found
Many may inherit fortune with precious stone
Prosperity may return and poverty gone
It may shadow bad luck and misfortune
Life may go astray with rhythm out of tune
Such is story of diamond “Kohinoor” in possession
Previously found with princely states with obsession
Sikhs got it with downfall and recession
British too lost empire with no concession
Where ever it traveled misfortune followed
Uprooting of states and downfall allowed
Humiliation and shame had to be swallowed
Revenge, hate and reprisal got to be vowed
“Kohinoor” came to be known as unlucky treasure
Cut into size was mounting pressure
British obliged and cut into pieces assured
Not to pass to any one promise reassured
British too were reduced to small empire
Golden days passed with good fame to expire
Many attempted it to claim and acquire
Legal bindings and claims too required
History may not repeat with its curse and fall out
Kohinoor may stay in vault and not invite rout
World may know nothing what it is all about
It is tale of destruction and misfortune spell out
Still it adores British crown
No significance but only in noun
Many countries claim and eyes frown
British too unwilling and claimdisown
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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A Summary History of Lord Clive
About a hundred and fifty years ago,
History relates it happened so,
A big ship sailed from the shores of Britain
Bound for India across the raging main.
And many of the passengers did cry and moan
As they took the last look of their old home,
Which they were fast leaving far behind,
And which some of them would long bear in mind.
Among the passengers was a youth about seventeen years old,
Who had been a wild boy at home and very bold,
And by his conduct had filled his parent's hearts with woe,
Because to school he often refused to go.
And now that he was going so far away from home,
The thought thereof made him sigh and groan,
For he felt very sad and dejected were his looks,
And he often wished he had spent more time at his books.
And when he arrived in India he searched for work there,
And got to be a clerk in a merchant's office, but for it he didn't care;
The only pleasure he found was in reading books,
And while doing so, sad and forlorn were his looks.
One day while feeling unhappy he fired a pistol at his own head,
Expecting that he would kill himself dead;
But the pistol wouldn't go off although he tried every plan,
And he felt sorry, and resolved to become a better man.
So Clive left his desk and became a soldier brave,
And soon rose to be a captain and manfully did behave;
For he beat the French in every battle,
After all their foolish talk and prattle.
Then he thought he would take a voyage home to his friends,
And for his bad behaviour towards them he would make some amends;
For he hadn't seen them for many years,
And when he thought of them he shed briny tears.
And when he arrived in London
The people after him in crowds did run;
And they flocked to see him every minute,
Because they thought him the most famous man in it.
And all the greatest people in the land
Were proud to shake him by the hand;
And they gave him a beautiful sword because he had fought so well
And of his bravery the people to each other did tell.
And when his own friends saw him they to him ran,
And they hardly knew him, he looked so noble a man;
And his parents felt o'erjoyed when they saw him home again,
And when he left his parents again for India it caused them great pain.
But it was a good thing Clive returned to India again,
Because a wicked prince in his territory wouldn't allow the british to remain,
And he resolved to drive them off his land,
And marched upon them boldly with thousands of his band.
But the bad prince trembled when he heard that Clice had come,
Because the British at the charge of the bayonet made his army run;
And the bad prince was killed by one of his own band,
And the British fortunately got all his land.
And nearly all India now belongs to this country,
Which has been captured by land and by sea,
By some of the greatest men that ever did live,
But the greatest of them all was Robert Clive.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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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
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Lord Robert's Triumphal Entry into Pretoria
'Twas in the year of 1900, and on the 5th of June,
Lord Roberts entered Pretoria in the afternoon;
His triumphal entry was magnificent to see,
The British Army marching behind him fearlessly.
With their beautiful banners unfurled to the breeze,
But the scene didn't the Boers please;
And they immediately made some show of fight,
But at the charge of the bayonet they were put to flight.
The troops, by the people, were received with loud cheers,
While many of them through joy shed joyous tears;
Because Lord Roberts from bondage had set them free,
Which made them dance and sing with glee.
Lord Roberts' march into Pretoria was inspiring to see,
It is reckoned one of the greatest achievements in our military history;
Because the Boers were watching him in front and behind,
But he scattered them like chaff before the wind.
Oh! it was a most beautiful and inspiring sight
To see the British bayonets glittering in the sunlight,
Whilst the bands played "See the conquering hero comes,"
While the people in ecstasy towards them run.
The British marched into Pretoria like the rushing tide,
And the Boers around Pretoria there no longer could abide,
Because the British at the charge of the bayonet made them run with fear,
And fly from Pretoria just like wild dear.
Then Lord Roberts cried, "Pull down the Transvaal Flag,
And hoist the Union Jack instead of the Transvaal rag;
And shout 'Britannia for ever,' and 'Long live our Queen,'
For she is the noblest Queen the world has ever seen."
Then the Union Jack was hoisted and unfurled to the breeze,
Which certainly did the Boers displease,
When they saw the Union Jack flying o'er their capital,
The sight thereof amazed them, and did them appall.
And when old Kruger saw Lord Roberts he shook with fright,
Then he immediately disguised himself and took to flight,
Leaving his poor wife in Pretoria behind,
But the British troops have treated her very kind.
Now let us all thank Lord Roberts for his great bravery,
Who has gained for the people of Pretoria their liberty,
By his skillful tactics and great generalship, be it told,
And the courage of his soldiers, who fought like lions bold.
Lord Roberts is a brave man, be it said,
Who never was the least afraid
To defend his Queen and country when called upon;
And by his valorous deeds great battles he has won.
Then success to Lord Roberts and the British Army,
May God protect them by land and by sea;
And enable them always to conquer the Boers,
And beat all foreign foes from our shores.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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I don't feel ashamed of my wife's political background, and I don't think she should either. I feel that the people who administered the North of Ireland for the last 20 years should be ashamed. There you are.
quote by Stephen Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Salmon Van As
On a night just as the moon is rising
a British officer comes by horse with a white flag
and the rifle barrels of the Boers follow him,
as they are on guard at the front post.
Evening after evening he comes
and sometimes rides past in a cloud of dust
where he is spying on their positions
and tries to lead them astray with his chattering.
With words that by now they know:
“No nation will win against us.
Surrender tonight,
as you have already lost the war.”
On a hillock Salmon van As is at the front post
and something creaks below him in the trees and bushes
where he is standing with his Mauser rifle at the ready
and he knows of the atrocities of this Englishman
where with a thunder clap he shoots at him.
Some black men run back to the British camp
to tell the story of the shot,
where a red headed major stamps his feet in anger
and swears to God to take revenge.
Convinced of his own innocence Salmon van As
stays openly on his own farm,
where he goes on with his life in Heidelberg
and just after the peace of Vereniging,
when it fits the British,
they insist on his arrest.
He is brought before a military court
where he is not given any chance to defend himself,
as probably he would have succeeded in his own defence
and the British officer says his final say.
At daylight the Lee Metford rifles of the British soldiers fire
and like Gideon Scheepers there’s a Boer that falls,
a Boer citizen is murdered by the British
and in the cliff a thorn tree on his grave still tells that story.
poem by Gert Strydom
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I'm very proud to be British, and my brand is British.
quote by Victoria Beckham
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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