stdClass Object
(
    [ID] => 16691
    [post_author] => 16
    [post_date] => 2016-03-08 13:27:55
    [post_date_gmt] => 2016-03-08 13:27:55
    [post_content] => Gather ‘round me, gather ‘round me,
I’ll tell you of great victory!

I’ve walked the field of Agincourt,
seen polished mail and glinting blade,
the bows in hands of men who end,
this war that’s raged one hundred years!

O France!
The mangy lion – sallow, grey,
bedraggled mane and rotting gums,
and bulging eyes, a true mad king,
and arrows stuck in black paw pads!

O England!
The sparrow with silver sword beak,
and feathers loose from flood and plague,
small in number but strong in force,
wings beating strong with fiercest pride!

King Henry, golden, sitting proud,
atop his steed, raised one great hand;
great silence fell across our field,
sunset blazing, each breath bated –

And it began!

The lion may be thrice the size,
but sparrows know just where to strike –
France fell! As to a farmer’s scythe,
and England sang its song of pride!

Remember, here, this victory,
sing your freedom, dance, rejoice,
your mother’s mother could not see
that this day would e’er come to pass!

But remember, too –

I’ve told you now, I’ve brought this news,
I too walked through the hero’s field,
so be sure not to cast aside,
your one and only Troubadour.
    [post_title] => The Troubadour's Song
    [post_excerpt] => 
    [post_status] => publish
    [comment_status] => closed
    [ping_status] => closed
    [post_password] => 
    [post_name] => the-troubadours-song-2
    [to_ping] => 
    [pinged] => 
    [post_modified] => 2016-11-17 12:33:20
    [post_modified_gmt] => 2016-11-17 12:33:20
    [post_content_filtered] => 
    [post_parent] => 0
    [guid] => http://poems.poetrysociety.org.uk/?post_type=poems&p=16691
    [menu_order] => 0
    [post_type] => poems
    [post_mime_type] => 
    [comment_count] => 0
    [filter] => raw
    [meta_data] => stdClass Object
        (
            [wpcf-published-in] => 
            [wpcf-date-published] => 2016
            [wpcf-summary-description] => This poem was commended in the secondary category in the Agincourt 600 Poetry Competition on Young Poets Network (YPN) in 2016.
            [wpcf-rights-information] => 
            [wpcf-poem-award] => Commended (secondary category), Agincourt 600 Poetry Competition
            [wpcf_pr_belongs] => 
        )

    [poet_data] => stdClass Object
        (
            [ID] => 16685
            [forename] => 
            [surname] => 
            [title] => Nirvana Yarger
            [slug] => nirvana-yarger
            [content] => Nirvana is a commended poet in the 2016 Young Poets Network August Challenge #1. She is also commended in the secondary category of the Agincourt 600 Poetry Competition on Young Poets Network.
        )

)
stdClass Object
(
    [ID] => 16685
    [forename] => 
    [surname] => 
    [title] => Nirvana Yarger
    [slug] => nirvana-yarger
    [content] => Nirvana is a commended poet in the 2016 Young Poets Network August Challenge #1. She is also commended in the secondary category of the Agincourt 600 Poetry Competition on Young Poets Network.
)

The Troubadour’s Song

Nirvana Yarger

Gather ‘round me, gather ‘round me,
I’ll tell you of great victory!

I’ve walked the field of Agincourt,
seen polished mail and glinting blade,
the bows in hands of men who end,
this war that’s raged one hundred years!

O France!
The mangy lion – sallow, grey,
bedraggled mane and rotting gums,
and bulging eyes, a true mad king,
and arrows stuck in black paw pads!

O England!
The sparrow with silver sword beak,
and feathers loose from flood and plague,
small in number but strong in force,
wings beating strong with fiercest pride!

King Henry, golden, sitting proud,
atop his steed, raised one great hand;
great silence fell across our field,
sunset blazing, each breath bated –

And it began!

The lion may be thrice the size,
but sparrows know just where to strike –
France fell! As to a farmer’s scythe,
and England sang its song of pride!

Remember, here, this victory,
sing your freedom, dance, rejoice,
your mother’s mother could not see
that this day would e’er come to pass!

But remember, too –

I’ve told you now, I’ve brought this news,
I too walked through the hero’s field,
so be sure not to cast aside,
your one and only Troubadour.