New England! Ever eager
To prove your chosenness
By your money wealth
And world success.
Yet your kinsman from Norfolk
On the eastern shore,
Holy Walstan of Bawburgh,
Pleads for your repentance.
Yankees! In the abundance
Of your physical goods
You see God’s blessing.
But St Walstan gave away
The gifts of food and clothes
He received to the poor.
The dynamo! By machines
And technology
You, O Pilgrim sons,
Will undo the wretched Fall.
Your cousin Walstan
Heartily disagrees,
Mowing hay barefoot
With a heavy scythe.
The appearance
Of apparitions
You see, East Anglians,
As proof of your purity
In the eyes of God.
But rebels against
The Orthodox Church
Of Christ are not vouchsafed
Such precious gifts.
Whereby we know
That the visitations
Of angels, the visions
And voice of God,
That you were granted
Were no delusion,
Righteous Walstan,
Walker of the Orthodox Way.
An eternal earthly
Empire is what you want,
Folk of Essex,
While Walstan at forty-one
Gave up his ghost to God.
Now he lives on
Beyond the grave,
Granting healings
Through his prayers
And holy wells.
But you will die,
And with Dives will be far
From the comforts
Of Abraham’s bosom,
Tormented by technics
Of your own devising.
Is this your desire, Yankee souls?
Seek instead the Way
Of Walstan while it may
Be found, before black night
Hides it forever from your eyes.
--
Holy Ælfred the Great, King of England, South Patron, pray for us sinners at the Souð, unworthy though we are!
Anathema to the Union!
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