Saturday, March 29, 2014

And His Word Went Marching On

On a sad day, when Penda's ilk are again battling against St Oswald, and have had some success in a Parliament which also made itself culpable against Amerindians and Esquimeaux of Canada from 1890's to 1970's by unjust legislation, on a sad day, sing a glad song, on a day of iniquity sing a song of justice, on a day of heresy, sing a song of Orthodoxy. On a day when England has legalised a new slavery called "gay marriage", sing of the Pope who freed the English from an older and often milder slavery called thraldom:

Like a phaisant to a sparrow
Like the feathers on a bird
To those that guide an arrow,
Let the difference be heard!
Like an icon of the Virgin
To a little cute cartoon
Is Liturgic Alleluia
In Latin to this tune.
Pope Gregory had sung it
With piety and awe,
He was walking to the market,
You know well whom he saw!

Not Angles, but Angels
Of the thralls quoth the Pope,
That Elizabeth Ann Seton
May teach us how to cope!
And the Tommies died for freedom,
Saints Becket and some More
For freedom of obeying
Pope Gregory in this shore.
Not Angles, but Angels!
From Hell Fire they'll be wrung,
And if their King is Ælla,
Alleluia shall be sung!

From Thy wrath, my God, De Ira
Call the Deirans to Thy grace!
Let Adolf's brother Botulf
From Ick'noe demons chase!
From Thy wrath unto Thy mercies,
And infuse their hearts with Grace
And though cursed are their idols
Let no curse be on their race!
Oh, dear God, is it far off?
Perhaps to nearer Kent
At least for little starters
Good Austin will be sent.

As pirates they were hunting
For thralls but lost the game
And as they'd done to others
To them was done the same:
That's why on Roman market
They stood for sale 'twas just.
Pope Gregory bought them, freed them,
Because in God we trust,
And freedom goes with Mercy
And both with trust in God
Who lay swaddled in a manger
Who Do-lo-ro-sa trod.

A relative of Ælla,
Who olden Ænglisc spake,
Who worshipt God in Latin
Though the monks might know some Græc
He was yclepëd Oswald,
Yes Oswald was his name,
But some foul impious hunter
Thought he would make good game.
But when the King returnëd
To rule in peace the land
A Mierchan King call'd Penda
In War his life did end.

Now, Oswald meaneth "ruling",
Of "Æsir" who were gods
In the estimate of Pagans
And also certain Mods.
Though Woden ruled Upsala,
Like Cæsars once in Rome
Like Lamas too in Lhasa,
Since Oswald made it home
To Heaven 'bove the Heavens
The Æsir rule no more:
For later their child Olaf
Ruled their idols on his shore.

Like a phaisant to a sparrow
Like the feathers on a bird
To those that guide an arrow,
Let the difference be heard!
Like an icon of the Virgin
To a little cute cartoon
Is Liturgic Alleluia
In Latin to this tune.
Pope Gregory had sung it
With piety and awe,
He was walking to the market,
You know well whom he saw!

Not Angles, but Angels
Of the thralls quoth the Pope,
That Ann Elisabeth Seton
May teach us how to cope!
And the Tommies died for freedom,
Saints Becket and some More
For freedom of obeying
Pope Gregory in this shore.
Not Angles, but Angels!
From Hell Fire they'll be wrung,
And if their King is Ælla,
Alleluia shall be sung!