Happy St George's Day everybody. Have just finished a 100 mile walk from Winchester to Eastbourne. We should feel very lucky to live in this "Green and pleasant land".
Happy St George's Day everybody. Have just finished a 100 mile walk from Winchester to Eastbourne. We should feel very lucky to live in this "Green and pleasant land".
You must have got up bloody early to have finished already.
"These days, if you say you're English, you'll be arrested and thrown in jail...".
Happy St Georges everyone.
What? These days, they'll arrest you and throw you in jail, just for saying you're English?
The Portuguese legal system is very strict, you know.
Have a lovely St. George's day, from here in sunny Northern Ireland, good luck to all of you in celebrating the slaying of the Duchatelet regime dragon.
Try not to drink too much.
Mind you, I'd drown my sorrows too..... if I were English.
WHAT have I done for you, England, my England? What is there I would not do, England, my own? With your glorious eyes austere, As the Lord were walking near, Whispering terrible things and dear As the song on your bugles blown, England - Round the world on your bugles blown.
Where shall the watchful sun, England, my England, Match the master-work you've done, England, my own? When shall he rejoice agen Such a breed of mighty men As come forward, one to ten, To the Song on your bugles blown, England - Down the years on your bugles blown?
Ever the faith endures, England, my England:- 'Take and break us: we are yours, England, my own! Life is good, and joy runs high Between English earth and sky: Death is death; but we shall die To the song on your bugles blown, England - To the stars on your bugles blown!'
They shall call you proud and hard, England, my England: You with worlds to watch and ward, England, my own! You whose mail'd hand keeps the keys Of such teeming destinies, You could not know nor dread nor ease Were the song on your bugles blown, England, Round the Pit on your bugles blown!
Mother of ships whose might, England, my England, Is the fierce old Sea's delight, England, my own, Chose daughter of the Lord, Spouse-in-chief of the ancient Sword, There's the menace of the Word In the Song on your bugles blown, England - Out of heaven on your bugles blown!
Comments
Being as it's, St. George's Day
Be proud of your English blood
And drink gallons of beer today
HAPPY ST. GEORGE'S DAY... Happy Anniversary to my parents who got married on this day many years ago
Happy St Georges everyone.
Have a good one all
Yes we know he wasn't English and he didn't kill a dragon---- lets get that out the way.
On the boat later,looking forward to it.
Give Roland hell to day those that are going to The Valley
And yes I've seen the Stuart Lee sketch.
Proudly English today and hope everyone enjoys the celebrations laid on by the club today.
Happy St George's all, I like many will celebrate my Englishness today marching for both pride in my nation and love for 'our club'
Happy St George's Day one and all.
Have a lovely St. George's day, from here in sunny Northern Ireland, good luck to all of you in celebrating the slaying of the
Duchatelet regimedragon.Try not to drink too much.
Mind you, I'd drown my sorrows too..... if I were English.
Happy St.Georges day all .
England, my England?
What is there I would not do,
England, my own?
With your glorious eyes austere,
As the Lord were walking near,
Whispering terrible things and dear
As the song on your bugles blown,
England -
Round the world on your bugles blown.
Where shall the watchful sun,
England, my England,
Match the master-work you've done,
England, my own?
When shall he rejoice agen
Such a breed of mighty men
As come forward, one to ten,
To the Song on your bugles blown,
England -
Down the years on your bugles blown?
Ever the faith endures,
England, my England:-
'Take and break us: we are yours,
England, my own!
Life is good, and joy runs high
Between English earth and sky:
Death is death; but we shall die
To the song on your bugles blown,
England -
To the stars on your bugles blown!'
They shall call you proud and hard,
England, my England:
You with worlds to watch and ward,
England, my own!
You whose mail'd hand keeps the keys
Of such teeming destinies,
You could not know nor dread nor ease
Were the song on your bugles blown,
England,
Round the Pit on your bugles blown!
Mother of ships whose might,
England, my England,
Is the fierce old Sea's delight,
England, my own,
Chose daughter of the Lord,
Spouse-in-chief of the ancient Sword,
There's the menace of the Word
In the Song on your bugles blown,
England -
Out of heaven on your bugles blown!
William Ernest Henley (1849 - 1903)