(A true history.  Mostly)

 

You’ve all ‘eard o’  t’Spanish Armada,

‘ow King Phillip the Schofield of Spain

Singed ‘is beard an’ then ‘ow ‘is navy

Got stuffed in Elizabeth’s reign.

An’ at Trafalgar Lord Nelson

Gen them Froggies some stick,

But died ‘olding Oliver ‘ardy

‘is bicorn spelled out “Kiss Me Quick”.

 

I’ll bet, though, yer less well acquainted

Wi one over which time ‘as glossed

It’s not in our pantheons o’ glory

For obvious reasons – we lost.

The year before ‘ad been awkward

Yon plague it ‘ad made many sick

An’ t’medicine wa’ t’Great Fire o’ London

I’m talking 1666.

 

Then ‘next year wa’ t’Battle o’ Medway

Of which thou’ll never ‘ave ‘eard

When a foreigner’s navy snook slyly upstream

Unchallenged an’ dead undisturbed.

They proceeded to Chatham reight quiet

(Their sailors all tip-toed in socks)

An’ found to their glee that our navy

Wa’ moored up, unmanned, in the docks.

They knocked seven bells out o’ our boats

Unceasing from daybreak till dark

Till ours was all wet from wi’ ‘oles in

Just like Scarborough’s own Peasholme Park.

An’ then they captured the flagship

An’ towed it away as a prize

Our admirals blinked at its sailing

“Well that was a blooming surprise!”

 

Which dastardly foe coulda done this?

As down we was caught wi’ our pants

Perhaps another Ramada?

Or mebbee them Froggies from France?

Well, no.  It turns out it’s neither

It’s not a Great Power as such

But summat ‘ad got up their noses

To stir up the peaceable Dutch.

They’re normally known fo’ their tulips

An’ sit-up-and-beg peddle bikes

An’ speaking impeccable English –

A nation as everyone likes.

Considered polite and so placid

An’ thought as a reight easy touch

They turned bellicose and bellig’rent

Them bull-buggerin’, bad ass Dutch.

 

So ‘omeward they sailed towards Dutchland

Content wi’ their military deed

An’ dreaming o’ stickin’ their fingers in dykes

Eyes rheumy wi’ smoking their weed.

An’ as they would cross the ‘orizome

Makin’ triumphalt return

A bloke on the ‘indmost flagship stoods up

An’ shouted these words from the stern.

 

“England!  England!  King Charles!  Oliver Cromwell!  Isaac Newton!  John Milton!  Robert Walpole!  Blackbeard!  Nell Gwynne!  Nell Gwynne!  Your boys took a hell of a beating!”