Once again, posted over at my place:
Over the centuries this nation, this United Kingdom, has fought many, many armed conflicts to preserve our country, our society, our way of life and our belief in democracy; armed conflicts which culminated in World War II. During that last, almost apocalyptic conflict, many nationals from other countries fled to this nation and fought for and beside us to preserve all for which they believed the United Kingdom stood.
Are we now to sully their memory and the ultimate sacrifice which so many of them made, because of a mis-guided and totally mad political dream, one that is pursued by those who have no regard for them they are meant to represent and serve? Are we to dishonour those that made that ultimate sacrifice; and in so doing, dishonour ourselves? Are we to dishonour those who died in concentration camps? Are we to dishonour those who suffered great deprivation and maltreatment on our behalf, men like Albert Brown or women like Nancy Wake who famously said: “….I used to think it didn’t matter if I died, because without freedom there was no point in living“.
So to those who are content with this nation’s membership of the European Union; to those who are content to see our society ravaged by political dogma; to those who are content to see Islamism proliferate in our land; to those who would willingly cede their ‘rights’ as free men and women; to those who wish to be considered, at the end of the day, outcasts of our society and our nation, I pose the following question:
Who amongst us would not wish to be able to say that the following words – words that undoubtedly drove those that made that ultimate sacrifice to fight for our nation – are also our words?
“That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse;
We would not die in that man’s company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is call’d the feast of Crispian.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam’d,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say ‘To-morrow is Saint Crispian.’
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say ‘These wounds I had on Crispian’s day.’
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he’ll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words-
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester-
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb’red.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.“
In which case, people of the United Kingdom, are you ‘UKers’, or are you mice?