What price, Patriotism?
Why glamourise the likes of us?
The special ones are we?
The proudest tales of daring don’t.
Behold, re-told the days of want
and struggles ‘gainst the token tyrant.
Ne’er the sins or sinned agin.
Under carpet briskly brushed
from the bairns’ ears, coldly hushed.
Tho FROM THE RAMPARTS you’ll proclaim
your glories
Ne’er your scabs of shame.
Hide those behind the camouflage
Of selective historical decoupage.
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