TheParagon

This land I was born upon, that I walked foot bare;
The sand squelched through my toes,
These are my long and fond memories,
The joys of childhood and of my history behold…
On the beaches in the summer days air, one day…
The building of sandcastles and later in youth;
Canoeing down rivers, capsizing in bays,
Experiencing the freedoms to choose…
A spit in the hand by a passer-by,
A gesture of good luck and cheer!
Those old English traditions and later; the beer...

In adulthood my bonds remain,
With the land and the nature of my youth;
The days of my medium to late adulthood,
I see the country for a few,
The change of mood;
I observe in disbelief, it’s totally misguided way!
By those that betray our traditions
And our moral compass, they betray!

Those that invent a cause, for 15 minutes of fame!
A minority, traded, bartered for their souls…
The ‘cancel culture’ to our past;
Is a knife between every rib and holds…
Of man, woman and child, that roams,
Our ancestors are turning in their graves!
Knowing their hardships suffered and were saved,
To just be given away…
For what? For the youths of our today and moral demise?
The foreign dilute and abuse of the English way?
To dismiss our history more and more?
To accept diversity to conquer from abroad?
Our history, our past, our heritage will become no more!

To live their lives unique to them, without learning on the way,
By hammering a square peg into a round hole,
Is for some of our youth, the ignorance and arrogance of today…

A sovereign, a democracy a freedom fought;
By our ancestors through blood and tears…
For those that want to tear us apart;
For a Marxist, socialist accord?
‘They, ’ who are willing to sacrifice
The efforts of our kin;
Are traitors by the definition of the word,
Are our enemies from within.

Until this scourge, the battle fought
For their ‘free lunch’ they do fight!
We must rid this unsocial Pariah!
Our country’s saviour is worth far more…
Than those bare, selfish desires.
Of those that are rich, elite, the media and more…
Our Democracy is not for sale!
Whatever one’s age or bribes hath taken,
It has open a floodgate or door…
It has taken away one’s salvation
Not recognised; until one signs the form.
One just sold their soul, to eternity…
Never to be reborn,
When one tries to break our world…

One will meet a true Englishman…
They will fight for a good cause…
We have seen this throughout our history
And will fight like, the traditions of St George!
Those that that tempt the beast of fire,
Does or should know the risks;
Those fools that expose themselves foolhardy,
Will inevitably feel the pain of sin,
And will ultimately then burn to a crisp!