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Best Famous Hastings Poems

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Written by Marriott Edgar | Create an image from this poem

The Battle of Hastings

 I'll tell of the Battle of Hastings, 
As happened in days long gone by,
When Duke William became King of England, 
And 'Arold got shot in the eye.

It were this way - one day in October 
The Duke, who were always a toff
Having no battles on at the moment, 
Had given his lads a day off.

They'd all taken boats to go fishing, 
When some chap in t' Conqueror's ear
Said 'Let's go and put breeze up the Saxons;' 
Said Bill - 'By gum, that's an idea.'

Then turning around to his soldiers, 
He lifted his big Nonnan voice,
Shouting - 'Hands up who's coming to England.' 
That was swank 'cos they hadn't no choice.

They started away about tea-time - 
The sea was so calm and so still,
And at quarter to ten the next morning 
They arrived at a place called Bexhill.

King 'Arold came up as they landed - 
His face full of venom and 'ate - 
He said 'lf you've come for Regatta 
You've got here just six weeks too late.'

At this William rose, cool but 'aughty, 
And said 'Give us none of your cheek;
You'd best have your throne re-upholstered, 
I'll be wanting to use it next week.'

When 'Arold heard this 'ere defiance, 
With rage he turned purple and blue,
And shouted some rude words in Saxon, 
To which William answered - 'And you.'

'Twere a beautiful day for a battle; 
The Normans set off with a will,
And when both sides was duly assembled, 
They tossed for the top of the hill.

King 'Arold he won the advantage, 
On the hill-top he took up his stand,
With his knaves and his cads all around him, 
On his 'orse with his 'awk in his 'and.

The Normans had nowt in their favour, 
Their chance of a victory seemed small,
For the slope of the field were against them, 
And the wind in their faces an' all.

The kick-off were sharp at two-thirty, 
And soon as the whistle had went
Both sides started banging each other 
'Til the swineherds could hear them in Kent.

The Saxons had best line of forwards, 
Well armed both with buckler and sword - 
But the Normans had best combination, 
And when half-time came neither had scored.

So the Duke called his cohorts together 
And said - 'Let's pretend that we're beat,
Once we get Saxons down on the level 
We'll cut off their means of retreat.'

So they ran - and the Saxons ran after, 
Just exactly as William had planned,
Leaving 'Arold alone on the hill-top 
On his 'orse with his 'awk in his 'and.

When the Conqueror saw what had happened, 
A bow and an arrow he drew;
He went right up to 'Arold and shot him. 
He were off-side, but what could they do?

The Normans turned round in a fury, 
And gave back both parry and thrust,
Till the fight were all over bar shouting, 
And you couldn't see Saxons for dust.

And after the battle were over 
They found 'Arold so stately and grand,
Sitting there with an eye-full of arrow 
On his 'orse with his 'awk in his 'and.


Written by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow | Create an image from this poem

The Warden of the Cinque Ports

A MIST was driving down the British Channel, 
The day was just begun, 
And through the window-panes, on floor and panel, 
Streamed the red autumn sun. 

It glanced on flowing flag and rippling pennon, 5 
And the white sails of ships; 
And, from the frowning rampart, the black cannon 
Hailed it with feverish lips. 

Sandwich and Romney, Hastings, Hithe, and Dover, 
Were all alert that day, 10 
To see the French war-steamers speeding over, 
When the fog cleared away. 

Sullen and silent, and like couchant lions, 
Their cannon, through the night, 
Holding their breath, had watched, in grim defiance, 15 
The sea-coast opposite. 

And now they roared at drum-beat from their stations, 
On every citadel; 
Each answering each, with morning salutations, 
That all was well. 20 

And down the coast, all taking up the burden, 
Replied the distant forts, 
As if to summon from his sleep the Warden 
And Lord of the Cinque Ports. 

Him shall no sunshine from the fields of azure, 25 
No drum-beat from the wall, 
No morning gun from the black fort's embrasure, 
Awaken with its call! 

No more, surveying with an eye impartial 
The long line of the coast, 30 
Shall the gaunt figure of the old Field Marshal 
Be seen upon his post! 

For in the night, unseen, a single warrior, 
In sombre harness mailed, 
Dreaded of man, and surnamed the Destroyer, 35 
The rampart wall had scaled. 

He passed into the chamber of the sleeper, 
The dark and silent room, 
And as he entered, darker grew, and deeper, 
The silence and the gloom. 40 

He did not pause to parley or dissemble, 
But smote the Warden hoar; 
Ah! what a blow! that made all England tremble 
And groan from shore to shore. 

Meanwhile, without, the surly cannon waited, 45 
The sun rose bright o'erhead; 
Nothing in Nature's aspect intimated 
That a great man was dead.

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry