Listen…across the echoes of our turbulent years
The shades who melt into the mists of time.
Legionaries at Richborough’s Roman fort
Their harbour, haven of an emperor’s will.
Viking longboats, splash of oars
Did sagas tell Norse tales of southern men?
At Pevensey, Duke William lands,
For Battle and an arrow’s chance.
Can you hear the echoing cries of death,
The clash of swords as blood is spilt?
In medieval times the anger of a king,
Who rids me of this meddling priest?
Four knights to holy Canterbury sped
And violent swords fall on a saintly crown
Martyred, Henry’s penance, Becket’s shrine.
Can you hear the echoing prayers of monks,
The tread of pilgrims through the narrow streets?
The stones of castles rang to children’s games
Silenced by desire and schemes of Tudor king
The axe falls, Anne no more counts Hever as her home.
Though Spanish Catherine and The Flemish Anne of Cleves
Survive mid diplomatic madness of a sovereign’s mind.
Can you hear the echoes of courtly dance
Music, or sad fall of silent tears?
On Romney Marsh and Sussex coast,
At night the Owlers ply their trade
Awaiting tides of contraband, as boats slip safely into shore.
Barrels stowed, lanterns sign danger, tongues are stilled.
Swift horses ride the cobbled streets.
Can you hear the echoes of excise shots?
The swinging of the hangman’s noose?
The band plays on, feet march as soldiers leave for war
Flags wave and sweethearts kiss a fond goodbye
The trenches, no-man’s land, both claim the dead
And local boys sleep in a foreign field.
Vera Lynn sings of the white cliffs, hopes for peace
Land girls work and England digs for victory.
Can you hear the siren sound, the spitfire’s roar?
These are the echoes of our island’s past
In Kent and Sussex…You can hear them…..Listen!