(I found this old poem among my "back catalogue".  I don't think I've posted it before)

 

We slew the aurochs and the bear

The tiger skulking in his lair;

We cooked with fire and red hot stones

And sucked the fat from out the bones;

 

We worshipped gods of earth and sea

Of moon and sun, of hill and tree;

We made our offerings to each god

Of human heads and hearts and blood;

 

Above our heads the spirits swirled

When summoned from the netherworld

As shamans danced in wolf-skull hoods

In henges built in stone and wood.

 

The debts we owed to other tribes

Would need no written word nor scribe;

Through generations have they stood

Till paid in honour or in blood.

 

Through ancestry and down through time

A thousand years our sun would shine;

A thousand more and more again

We strode the valleys hills and plains

And lived by blade and blood and flame

Deserving of a better name

And not the one on which I choke

Dismissed as simply Beaker Folk.