by Ray Smith 'St George! St George fer England!' Ee, th' air wer' loudly rent, Be shouts from patriotic chaps, off bashin' t' Frogs agen. Wi' armour shinin' brightly, wi' lances pricked an' sharp, Some clasped the mighty longbow; one strange 'un 'ad an 'arp. They'd spit an' polished daily, an' sometimes through the night, All them shields an' swords an' bucklers, ter mek 'em look jus' right. They'd supped an' dined an' aye, a last quick roger in the hay, But now the day wer' 'ere at last, and they wer' on their way. For they wer' English, true an' proud, an' St George was their saint, But 'ang on, lads, ther's summat up, an' things aren't what they ain't. Yer see, it started long ago, when things wer' bleak an' grim, An' t'chance of England gerrin' a saint, wer' lookin' pretty slim. The King back then 'ad cast a net, (that's Spanish fer a click) (Ah thought as Ah'd jus' slip that in, ain't tharra real neat trick!). Anyway, get back ter t' plot, or we's be 'ere all week, So 'ere's the bottom-line right now; yon St George wer' a Greek! No one's sure, or they're not sayin', of why this sounds uncouth, Nobody's actually lyin', more economical with the truth. It turns out yon King Edward Three, 'ad a yen fer knights an' such, But ter pick a Greek chap as our saint, 'ee, Eddie that's too much! But anyroad, the deed wer' done an' Georgios wer' adopted, Though 'e didn't like our weather much, 'avin' come 'ere from the 'ot Med. 'E moaned an' groaned an' whined a lot to every passin' bloke, But that wer' fine, cause no one understood a word 'e spoke. An' as fer dragon slayin', well, things there ar' even sadder, The nearest thing we've got ter that is a little snake - an adder. An' 'e didn't slay it in the way that sets the nerves all tinglin', No, 'e sat on it on t' top o' moors, while doin' a bit o' minglin'. So there yer go, an' 'ere's the tale, that's brought the truth ter light, 'Ow go' lad George become our saint an' t' dragon put ter flight. So in t' merry month of April, on t' day o' t' twenty third, W'ill all lift up our voices, an' w'ill let this cry be 'eard. 'St George! St George fer England!' We don't care if yer Greek, Yer our official patron saint; at least fer t' rest o' t' week! Submitted 21 March 2002
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