The backbone of this giving Isle

from marshy fen to firth of forth,

has soured the face of many a smile

beneath the crown that ventured north.

 

Then Westward too, the Kingdom torn

across a Wilding Sea,

its Children poor, to paupers born

that bore the likes of you and me.

 

With baubles traded, power for land

The Lords abused their folk the same,

to sit opposed yet hand in hand

a Kingdom still by other name.

 

Yet here we sit behind the spine

that bears our history’s weight,

though all within is yours and mine

we are sold out at discount rate.

 

Should we seek beyond our view

with open arms to near and far?

what inward turns does inward harm

the sum of all we truly are.