Mud splattered, blood spattered

The men at Agincourt,

Outnumbered, outmanoeuvred,

And yet, still, they'd fought.

They fought for King and Country

For a cause they thought was just.

But God was on their side of course,

And, of course, His needs must.

They fought and bravely so,

I'd say, and howled and screamed and killed.

They did the duty of Henry, King,

Who thought God's needs fulfilled.

So ended the day of slaughter,

And each Frenchman turned his face

Away from the field of Agincourt,

Far away from the killing place.

No chivalry, just blood and shit

But victory was no mean feat

On Crispin's Day, 1415,

At a field, ploughed for winter wheat.