Ancient lands of Britain, these I love the most
Along the stormy seashores, and each rugged coast
Battlegrounds of Hastings, where good King Harold died,
Agincourt of Henry, and Frenchmen all who lied.
Sherwood forest Nottingham; Lockley at his best
Many of his henchmen; clad in green hose and vest,
Fighting against the evil swords of Sheriff’s men,
Imposing King John’s taxes, hundred fold and ten
At Runnymead with John; a King of false pretense
Whilst Richard fought in Holy wars: No recompense
Merlin, the great wizard, he cast the many spell
Many a great secret, he would not Arthur tell.
Great white cliffs of Dover, a sight behold to see
And Germans had their sights, on sure a victory
Not before old Bonaparte, who thought he could win
Then put away on Elba, for his very sin.
Battleground of BannockBurn, with Scots in their kilts
Playing loud the bagpipes; the music squirls and lilts,
Against mighty England; Scots thought it would be fun
But Wallace lost his trews, then see the Scots all run.