Ballad of Britain
From white cliffs standing tall against the sea,
A nation kneels, not chained, but lost in memory.
We watch her bleed across the evening screen,
Another lie dressed in a brighter sheen.
Thirty years of open wounds and flooded streets,
Elite saloons where āenrichmentā sounds,
where fork tongues preached compassionās grand design,
While British children drown on their own bloodline.
Rotherhamās fourteen hundred girls betrayed,
Oldham, Rochdale, Telford ā same grim charade.
Grooming gangs ran wild for many years,
Councils, cops, and Labour hid their fears,
Silenced victims, shielded guilty peers.
Manchester Arena torn apart at night,
Twenty-two souls lost to failed-state spite.
Southport blades cut tiny flowers down,
Riots flared while hidden powers frowned.
The slaughter roll grows longer, cold and stark:
Lee Rigby hacked beneath the Woolwich sun,
Jo Cox gunned where market traders run,
Sarah Everard ā uniform gone wrong ā
Innocents piled where knives belong.
Fifty thousand knife crimes year by year,
Forty-nine thousand counted, uncloaked fear.
Henry Nowak, Southampton lad, stabbed five,
Handcuffed and gasping, āI canāt breatheā alive.
Hadi Alodia, Sudanese blade released,
Asylumās shadow where the bloodshed increased.
Sadiq Khan upon his London throne of stone,
āKnife crime down?ā ā yet records groan.
āCan you be more specific?ā ā a hollow reply,
While failed stop-and-search lets London die.
Starmerās Labour spins the scripted line,
āCall for calm,ā their two-tier quip so fine.
Soft on some, hammer on the native itās all very plain,
āSwift and severeā wrong outrage again.
Would you call for calm if it was your wife,
Your son, your daughter, carved by the knife?
Open borders, failed schemes, elite disdain,
Hotels for strangers, natives no gains.
Patterns ignored, the data long suppressed,
While headlines cry āfar-rightā and truth is suppressed.
Yet absolution asks no beggarās plea,
Nor grovelling penance on a bended knee.
Britain gave the world her tongue and common law,
That shields the weak and holds the mighty in awe.
She birthed the science, verse, and Parliamentās light,
Bending empires slowly toward the right.
Forgiveness never means erasing scars,
Nor letting guilt become our prison bars.
The same hands built the schools and drained the fens,
Broke feudal chains and stood on freedomās end.
The same blood soaked the beaches, fields, and skies,
To crush a greater darkness ā twice she rise.
So let the reckoning come, but let it sing,
Not endless shame, nor empty triumphās ring.
Honest bronze for every flawed endeavour:
The noble, vile, the muddled, the forever.
Rage burns pure and cold beneath the sky,
In streets where fury tries to reason why.
To the lost ones watching through the dark tonight,
Feeling Britain fading from your sight ā
You still hold a choice, a different road to tread,
Steadfast and unyielding, a clearer path ahead.
Secure the borders, justice sharp and true,
Skies clear again beneath a wiser blue.
Vote with that cold rage in the hearts of the free,
For wives, sons and daughters - you and me,
Absolve not to forget, but to release
This islandās future from the pastās caprice.
Stand tall, old Albion, in the turning tide.
The empireās sun has set; a new light may abideā
Quiet, inward, wiser, undenied.
Carry every scar and every kiss,
And walk unbowed toward whatever comes.
Lennox .