So tell me, old friend, what word was my crime?
Which truth so unyielding, so foul, so sublime?
Was it love of my country, too brazen, too bold,
Or the thought that its borders were not to be sold?
Did the call for true peace and for justice offend,
Or the wish to defend both my kin and my friend?
I spoke of our daughters, our mothers, our wives,
That none should be bartered, nor caged in their lives.
I warned of the wolves that had crept through the door,
Yet mercy was given, how could I ask more?
But silence is poison when truth goes unvoiced,
And safety’s a ruin when fear is the choice.
Did faith light the fire that severed our ties,
That Britain stand firm where her ancestry lies?
Or was it that law, once tempered and fair,
Should not be divided nor bent in despair?
No doctrine imposed, no creed raised above,
But freedom to question, to speak, and to love.
I cast out the tyrants, be they left or the right,
For chains forged in darkness still glisten in light.
I stand against terror, I stand against hate,
Yet still you depart, and I question my fate.
Was friendship so fragile, so fleeting, so thin,
That truth was a burden too heavy to win?
So farewell, my old friend, may your road be still kind,
May the winds never turn nor truth trouble your mind.
For I shall not falter, nor beg to belong,
The land that I cherish has made my voice strong.
And if love of one’s home is a heresy now,
Then write me the villain and brand me the vow.
(By John Shenton)