Dedicated to the victims of Manchester and all the Britons affected by terrorism


In this land of green valleys,

In this land of white faces,

And yellow and brown and

Pink and black, and hundreds

Of tongues, singing like birds

The stories of journeys that

Ended in this home,

In this land of tea and beer

And pubs, and curry and pizza

And sweet and sour pork, of

May poles and Chinese New Years,

In this land of bangles and boots

And flouncy dresses and green tattoos,

In this land of discontent at times

And silly football fights,

Of bookers and charity volunteers,

Of summer festivals in the mud

And druids around the Tor

And scientists writing their quantum

Music of the spheres, and robot and

Man muscling together to create a car

A train, a super plane, soon a rocket

To reach the heights where the stars

Of yore inspired a pen to call a boy Romeo

And his girlfriend Juliet,

In this land that feels as old as time

And yet so new, where it takes a walk

Or two to find a cow or a sheep on

The borders of steel and brick cities.

In this land when some have it good

And some quite not so, in this

Land where no politician is ever

Taintless and we can argue for ages

About left and right, in this land

When sometimes the shadow of

Hatred sneaks between the roses,

In this land we look and talk and think

And hope so differently, yet alike.

In this land, there is no fear.

For time and time again

Those who tried and failed

And those who tried and hurt,

Have found that, in this land,

We take crap from no one,

Not even our petite selves,

When it comes to stand together

And defend this land of grace.

And we will weep for our children

And young and old, killed cowardly

By a freak with a bomb, an assassin with a car,

An idiot with a machine gun on a Turkish beach,

A traitor with a knife.

We will weep and cry and pray, if pray

If what we do. We will hold each other

And hug a stranger. Light candles in

City centres and lay stuffed elephants

And pink hippos on a carpet of flowers

On the middle of the street. And we will

Remember, but never give in.

Not once shall we give up

That which make us unique:

The values forged by millennia of

People coming together from every

Corner of the world. And of all

The names we are called, United and

Great are engraved in the centre

Of a core, wherever we have been

Britons by birth or by choice, by a

Lineage extending 20 generations or

By a grandpa that came 30 years ago,

Seeking the British dream.

And in this land, our land,

Some of us will take our tea

And some of us will celebrate Ramadan,

And some instead of quiz night will

Hold Salsa nights.

And we’ll remember our dead children,

In this land.

And our mums and dads taken away

In an act of senseless rage and pseudo-revenge.

But in this land, we stand together, come what may.

And no matter the storm or the violence

Or the threat of the fear,

Together we will keep this land great,

United in a cheer, a beacon of freedom and

Hope and peace and beauty and innovation.

For we are Brits and when we fall, we

Breathe, we swear, we shed a tear, we dust off  our knees,

Get up, stand tall. And  then we go and carry on.




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