We Are in Silvermoon
We are in Silvermoon,
A sanctuary where we coexist.
Danes, Anglo-Saxons.
Yet,
Drawing nourishment from both roots,
We become one.
Your past, your present—
Though we seem locked in eternal war,
In the end, we fight for the land.
Greeting a brief truce,
We speak across the divide:
"Why did you slaughter my father?"
"I am sorry! I killed to survive!"
As time flows on,
Like King Alfred,
You become one under the name of England.
And ironically,
When the World Cup arrives,
We weep and roar as one.
England! England!
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