Old English Lament Poem by Paddy J. P. Harris

No song or saga | is dare sung of them
That wearily warred | against William the cruel
In days of old | such deeds would be known
And glory given | to great men as those
For mighty men | would remember the faces
That fiercely fought | and defied them well
And when home in the hall | would heap on them praise
But now there is naught | that the newcomers sing
They sit and they sneer | at new subjects they rule
Though careful to control | that most kingly of folk
For we were mighty and many | without malice or hate
And in fighting our foemen | would freely meet death
But our lands and our lords | they are lost to us now
And we are bound to the bounty | of these butchers of men