Prodigious Avian

Praise Thegn Quercus

Lord Quercus, bathed in a radiant light, bless his heart and soul, for he is Welsh aristocracy incarnate, descended from an archaic line of Welsh Kings, who have trained since birth to repel the Saesneg menace. From creeping along suburbs, brimming with English invaders and terrorising their mailboxes with the locust horde, to sending thinly veiled threats to the council, may his efforts be immortalised in Skaldic song. O’ Quercus, O’ Quercus, the bane of all Englishmen, to your name and your deeds we shall merrily sing. For your efforts are vast, to save Cymru at last, from the menace of Westminster, holidayers, the council and Saesneg kings. O’ Quercus, O’ Quercus, the hero of Wales, we’ll drive out the Saesneg, from this land that we own. With our blood and our steel, we shall take back our home. The age of tyranny dims and the Englishman wanes, drive the stake in their vile hearts and send them to the cold grave! When our blood ebs on the ground and the Lord beckons us all, we shall rise with pride for we punished the Englishman’s gall. The Englishman, Englishman, horror incarnate, may their blood boil and thicken and foam at the gate. They have sneered and peered at our woes so great, we shall repel them from Cymru and wipe a clean slate. Cymru am Byth is our rallying cry, send the Englishman to Germania in wine barrel and away from Gods eye. Fe Godwin Ni Eto!
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