I staggered from the pub,
The Battle by name,
And fell onto the beach
Into a dream-filled daze.
There out at sea were ships,
So many of them.
There was I on my horse
Riding with my men
Towards the invaders.
We had to drive them back,
Back to their Norman lands.
The battle was fought,
We were driving them back
The King came towards me
To praise me for my efforts
When it happened.
My serf, Orchi, spoke,
He pointed into the sky
And said,
“Your Majesty, what is that?”
I awoke at that point
As a raucous sound assailed me.
Orchi had arrived,
Singing in his strangulated voice
With no tune to be heard.
He was late as usual to the wake,
The wake of our defeat,
Our defeat to the Normans,
On this beach
Back in ten sixty six.
He looked at my red rimmed eyes
Pulled out his bottle of water
And told me,
“I should have been here,
And watered down your drinks!”
953 years since the battle of Hastings, 14th October 1066.