/lit/ - Literature

O Briton! Strength ye have, the none compare,
Thou battle well upon the fields o' gold,
The loyalty to Queen, ne'er be e'er sold,
Thine mettle great, ye've possessed quite the share,
And bend thine bowstrings, ye brave yeomen,
With arrows sharp and swift, ye'll attack as snakes
With lightning speed and bite behind thine stakes,
All aiming at the foul Mohammedan!