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!