Yo soy el Jabalí en la Batalla. Six Feet of English Soil by Boroman

Lo! Praise the prowess of the Porcos Bravos

Of spear armed Celts in days long sped

We have heard, and what honour the Gallego’s have won

Oft wresting the cup from squandered foes

From many a Saxon the ale horn tore.

Loud were the songs of bard’s and the rune’s re-telling

The tales of deeds round campfires told

Bold they were and raimed in black

With strong shield arms for lifting many drafts

And vast their hunger for creatures of the land and sea

Our story born in the mists of legend

told the saga of a meeting before a wedding

Tween races of great renown

A battle was fought that echoed Through the ages

It shook the very heavens

The old gods shrank in fear at the coming tide

The Porcos Bravos and the Stags -

Eternal would the struggle be

Who is good and who is evil?

None can tell for sure

These matters are as of the tide

And the whims of the lords of Valhalla

But this was certain

The war would be long and bitter

And so it has proven

Eleven times the foes had met

The issue went this way and that

Who were once victorious where then defeated

A tide in the affairs of man

And so, to write another saga

One to be told by the bards of vigo and

of pontevedra and corrunna

The Porcos Bravos set forth once more

From the land of rain they came

Their ships with serpent’s prow

drove on with purpose

As for men with blood of ice and

black hearts full of dark design

fell in aspect and in humour

In their midst were heroes many

Who sat in the Halls of the Griffon and swollen Cat

And the hound named bassett

From fresh faced youth and loyal thanes with hair of silver

Main was their captain, with aspect of Crow

The blue and white banner unfurled

Martin he was named, hammer of the Stags

who many a shield wall had broken

Serge, inn-keeper and bard and Santi, the keeper

Louis the scribe and Arthur, minstrel beloved of the folk

And argie, the reaver, fandinho, an artist with ball and flagon,

And marcos, swifter than an arrow and

issac of the golden boots

and Louis named of the river

Their longships sailed the perilous waters

To do honour and battle the Saxon once more

From the North they came

To the land of Steel, fire hidden like Dragon’s breath

Sweeping like a plague through the homelands

Many a draft was taken, many an ale house left in ruin

Many a hostel and homestead defiled

They laid waste from Newcastle to the River Don

A fury unabated, stern through helmets of burnished steel

A plague upon this noble land,

a desolation, a reckoning

To meet their foes on a field of green

The Stags were readied for the coming storm

Pigs they named them, for pigs they were

With allies from the North and Chester’s Field and Rother-ham

But Stags also with hearts of English Yew

Their King, in exile, returning to lead his banner men

Steeled against the foe, the black shadow

Oaths had been taken, for such a deed,

reclaim the cup of pewter

Forged in fire, with handles two

To lay again in it’s home hearth

By the island of Kelham

The balance of the world restored

And so they met again on a field of honour

A stern test, a warrior’s test,

of arms and skill and strength

of arm and heart and liver

who should triumph?

Lo! Let the fates decide and the god’s decree

Long was the fight, and many a shield was sundered

And many a sword was broken and hauberk split

The sound and fury split the very heavens

And yet the struggle was long in doubt

First one then the other held sway

Heroes gave battle, berserk in their fury

But ere did the brave Stags win the day

Their shield wall, too stout to break

Their Saxon hearts beating as of drums of war

The Porcos Bravos, their strength subdued,

Travel had wearied them

As with too much mead and feasting

And this their prize, six feet of English soil…….