The Englishman

Written for my grandmother who loved epic poetry that.....told a story.

 

Trailing timber and ships debris,

He washed upon her shore.

The Englishman

The Englishman

From the shattered Man O' War.

 

Wearing a coat of royal red,

He knew he was alone.

The Englishman

The Englishman

In a land hostile to his own.

 

She looked at him with pity,

For there was no place to hide.

The Englishman

The Englishman

With his mates he should have died.

 

Then holding out her hand,

She spoke in a foreign tongue.

The Englishman

The Englishman

He knew that he must run.

 

She took him to the rectory,

In the cellar he stowed away.

The Englishman

The Englishman

Grateful for yet another day.

 

And every afternoon she came,

Bringing wine and bread.

The Englishman

The Englishman

Knew they both could end up dead.

 

He begged her not to come again,

He feared only for her life.

The Englishman

The Englishman

Wished the lass now was his wife.

 

Then on Sunday the twenty-fourth,

His pretty maid...she did not come.

The Englishman

The Englishman

In grief he was undone.

 

And when he heard the horse’s hooves,

He knew they were found out.

The Englishman

The Englishman

Knew what was to come about.

 

He strode out to meet them,

With a true gentleman’s swagger.

The Englishman

The Englishman

Twas then that he did stagger.

 

For all about him were a hundred men,

Wearing the scarlet hue.

The Englishman

The Englishman

Knew it was too good... too good to be true.

 

The sixth Dragoon was here,

On a milk-maids be half.

The Englishman

The Englishman

Then began to laugh.

 

They said they met a pretty girl,

She begged not for her life.

The Englishman

The Englishman

"Save him" she cried like an old fishwife.

 

Struggling he asked,

"Where...where is she now?"

The Englishman

The Englishman

Hoped she was alright somehow.

 

Then as if on cue,

He heard her.... shouting out his name,

The Englishman

The Englishman

And it was his wife...... that she became.