We have always found the Irish a bit odd. They refuse to be English.
In a time of universal deceit - telling the truth is a revolutionary act.
There is a forgotten, nay almost forbidden word, which means more to me than any other. That word is England.
Saint George killed the last dragon, and he was called a hero for it. I've never seen a dragon, and I wish he would have left at least one. Saint Patrick made a name for himself by running the snakes out of Ireland, leaving the place vulnerable to rodent infestation. This business of making saints out of men who exterminate their fellow creatures has got to stop. All I'm saying is, it's starting to get a little lonely up here at the top of the food chain.
Saint George he was for England, And before he killed the dragon he drank a pint of English ale out of an English flagon.
Advance our standards, set upon our foes; Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George, Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons!
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. The game's afoot; Follow your spirit: and upon this charge, Cry — God for Harry! England and Saint George!
Saint George and the Dragon!-Bonny Saint George for Merry England!-The castle is won!
or simply:
