Norman Footsloggers wading ashore
your boots brine-stained
your fears lost in the roar;
You’ve seen the Saxon high upon
the cliffs gazing down at
strangers in this strange land,
Norman Footsloggers malevolent
flotsam on deadlier sand;
Norman oaths shall carry this day,
it’s spillage of blood will verify
Duke William’s claim,
sanctify his deeds,
then a new history,
his story
will record the glory
and mark your graves
with a Norman Cross;
Norman Footsloggers aim your crossbows
like your serjeants taught you,
aim high at the Saxon and
though few of you’ll ever know it,
your Duke’s hybrid-speech
will become revered,
his codefied injustice
will be a model of Law
and the accounts books
of his army’s looting and theft
will sit alongside leatherbound
Histories of Rome on library shelves;
Norman Footsloggers wading ashore,
your boots brine-stained
and your fears lost in the roar.
aahh…nothing quite beats the sound of flattery on a morning.