The Roman Conquest of Britain
by
Gordon Kerr-Smith
Gordon Kerr-Smith
Illustrations by D. Ferguson
It's 'istorical fact that the Romans, 
By t' year of B.C. Fifty-Five, 
'avin' bashed up the best part of Europe, 
Was plannin' their next warlike drive. 

Their leader were Julius Caesar,
Best Soldier that Rome ever bred. 
'e declared that 'isself, so whoever 
Said diff'rent were very soon dead! 

'is campaigns was 'ighly successful, 
And t' Romans 'ad took Spain and Gaul. 
So, while he were still in the district, 
'e thought 'e'd take Britain and all. 

On t' French coast the Legions assembled 
When a French bloke called out 'Sacree Bloo 
A lorry's caught fire in t' Tunnel 
They've closed t' bugger, you'll never get through!' 

Ferries was on strike, as per normal, 
And planes was all grounded by t' mist, 
Said Caesar 'I'm fed up with this lot, 
I think I'll go 'ome and get pissed!'

But 'e didn't. Instead, he got boatyards 
To build 'im his own Roman Fleet. 
And set off, all keen -like, for England, 
The crude Ancient Britons to beat. 

But while t' Roman Fleet crossed the Channel 
The British got wind of the raid, 
And long before t' first ships was sighted, 
Defence preparations was made. 

The 'ome guard were called up, and ready - 
In groundsheets and old army socks, 
And, fearsome and 'airy, stood waitin' 
On t' cliff tops, wi' big piles of rocks. 

The Romans, expectin' no trouble, 
'ad 'oped easy vic'try to gain - 
They 'adn't seen great British Army 
Stood standin' there, drippin', in t' rain. 

The ships drew in close to the shoreline. 
'Prepare to land!' Julius said. 
But no sooner 'ad t' order been given 
When stones pelted down on 'is 'ead. 
Gordon Kerr-Smith
'Bugger me!', muttered Caesar, quite niggled, 
As 'e surveyed the dark cloudy skies, 
'I'd 'eard British Weather were rotten, 
But not that they'd 'ailstones this size!' 

Under t' sheer weight of rocks fallin' on 'em, 
The Roman ships started to sink. 
If some'at weren't done pretty smart-like 
All t' Legions would end up in t' drink. 

So Caesar considered the problem, 
And to stop things from gettin' much worse 
'e turned t'oarsmen round on their benches, 
Thus shovin' 'is ships in reverse.

To France 'e sailed back in a paddy,
And all winter sat sulkin', on t' shore, 
He were fumin' to get back to Blighty 
Next summer, to level the score.

The time 'e spent waitin' weren't wasted; 
'e used it 'is plans to perfect - 
To get 'is lads safe through the 'ailstorm 
And t' Conquest of Britain effect. 

'e 'ad made for each man an umbrella 
Of cast iron, 'alf an inch thick, 
And bronze Bowler 'ats made up special, 
Resistant to great cobs of brick. 

And thus, with 'is pride re-up'olstered,
'e set sail for Britain once more, 
And, modest-like, wrote in 'is Memoirs: 
'Beat Brits in B.C. Fifty Four!' 

This time English 'ome Guard were powerless.
Their rocks was of little avail - 
For covered by Caesar's umbrellas, 
The invadin' force couldn't fail. 

So t' Brits ran away, and deserted, 
And fled to the mountains in Wales, 
Where t' Welsh 'ad 'em banned from t' Eistedfodd 
For tryin' to recite smutty tales. 

And Caesar, with plumes in 'is Bowler 
Was posin' and speechin' and such - 
Sayin' 'Wainy and Weedy and Weeky' - 
Which meant - 'British aren't up to much'.

And to rub in this shame to the British, 
They was ordered by Caesar's command 
To carry rolled brollies in t' City 
And wear Bowler 'ats throughout land. 

And they do! - All the British commuters, 
From then until now, as you know - 
Carry Brollies and Bowlers on t' tube train, 
But they're no bloody use - Just for show!
The end