The rotten luck of fixture congestion does for Harold G.

Their charges had stalled

Our shield wall had held

As we threw them back down the hill

The battle was won

They started to run

And we poised ourselves for the kill;

“Don’t break from the walls”

We heard the housecaerls

But we wanted them dying and gored

“They still have their horsemen

Unlike the Norsemen”

Bellowed Ordgar, our Lord.

But we fell for the feint

And we fell for the taunt

As steel on our helmets would ring

We Saxons could well

Have held Senlac Hill

And Harold would still be our King.