Britslore

THE SONG OF THE WOOD a gravediggers guild they left their posts they set out for iron and went to the north they hired a crew to cut down a wood the wood was gone so they shoveled the earth they dug colosseums and mined the ore depleted the veins and shipped their haul the blacksmith turned the iron to steel and crafted the head of a woodcutters axe and the carpenter made a handle from wood and crafted the helve of a woodcutters axe the woodcutter took the new axe to a grove and with a swing he chopped down an ash and with the wood from the lonely tree the carpenter fashioned a body and neck and with the steel he had leftover the blacksmith forged a new set of strings and with the neck and the body and strings the luthier crafted a flawless lute and with the lute a bard did go back to the grove where the tree was chopped and on the stump where the tree once stood he played for the forest the song of the wood

On the day of her funeral, Some Britons mourn, Some of us shrug, Discussing compliments & critiques. Yet above our musings, Rises a black chorus, Of mockery and jubilation, A foreign choir we've come to know, Saharan hyenas & Oriental vultures. Their malice not towards her coffin, But unleashed upon the people, No criticism of her reign, Only of our existence. As the sun sets on her Empire, A new day breaks for us, The death of our monarch, Our nation's rebirth. Hope & Glory! - Tucker, National Director

A beautiful genius lies dormant in the hearts of our people. Oh the things that could happen if this potential was again realized.

ABSOLUTELY DEAFENING SUPPORT FOR THE BOOK RN

MY BOOK “NIGHTWALKS IN LAIBACH” IS OUT NOW AVAILABLE ON AMAZON PROCEEDS GO BACK TO OUR WORK IN PROJECTS DEDICATED TO THE PRESERVATION OF BRITISH HERITAGE “A PATCHWORK OF INTERLACING SCENES SPAWNING FROM THE MIDSUMMER NIGHTWALKS OF A TRANSATLANTIC TRAVELLER IN A POST-YUGOSLAV CAPITAL AND A YEAR OF NOMADIC ESCAPADES AT THE HEART OF EUROPEAN RUIN. A KNOTWORK OF FUTURIST RAMBLINGS AND NOCTURNAL RUMINATIONS. A THEATRE OF WAR” https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BCQDMYX9/ref=cm_sw_r_api_i_P6CE5TRGV6VZH7ZXK9XC_0

As autumn approaches and the harvest season begins, we’ve assembled a way to exhibit your support for British folklore! 🍂 Go grab a John Barleycorn shirt now and support our work at Britslore :) https://faust-6.creator-spring.com/listing/john-barleycorn-print?product=2

John Barleycorn is a personification of barley and of the alcoholic beverages made from it: beer and whiskey. In the British folk song of the same name, he suffers indignities, attacks, and death that correspond to the various stages of barley cultivation, such as reaping and malting. John Barleycorn is to the harvest what Santa Claus is to Christmas. John Barleycorn is the spirit of the harvest and there are countless songs singing his praise. Corn in ancient times referred to any grain - rye, barley, wheat. That explains why when America was being colonized and they came across an unfamiliar grain (maize)-they simply referred to it as the generic "corn". The song may have its origins in ancient English or Scottish folklore, with written evidence of the song dating it at least as far back as the Elizabethan era.