Some speak of Kings and high born lords
Some speak of Earls and noble men
But this tale I tell from long ago
Concerns not a one of them
A Warrior Queen, born of the sea
A leader of strength and renown
Throughout Europe there be none like her
They call her a Queen though she wears no crown
Grace is her name and Ireland her home
A land of conquest rebellion and strife
Under the rule of a Tudor Queen
Who placed a bounty upon her life
Elizabeth is she and England is hers
As well as lands taken by force
But Ireland hast been a thorn in her side
Her rule of law she cannot enforce
Grace:
Ma’am I write to you under duress
Two women of power are we
Our conflict of nations I wish to address
And my countries right to be
So I ask for a congress of both our minds
And I appeal to your common sense
I will go to your land and to your great hall
If you agree these talks should commence
Elizabeth:
Get thee away, you low born fool
This traitor of ill repute
She dares to write to beg for my aid
My rule is absolute!
No concession will I ever condone
While she attacks my men on the seas
I have burned her letter, let it be known
No retort from me will she receive
Grace clashed with Spanish and with Turks
Yet the English caused the most pain
Elizabeth warred on countless fronts
Creating a monetary strain
At last, with Grace, a decision was made
To London she would go
She had sent a fair and impassioned plea
Yet no response did the Queen bestow
On a bright July morning Grace readied her fleet
Four score men and their Warrior Queen
Set sail across the pale narrow sea
Towards the unknown and dangers unseen
Arriving at last in the strangest of lands
Through a maze of dark dismal streets
A foul stench pervaded the air
Of human waste and rancid meats
As Grace progressed through the city so vast
The people did stop to gaze and stare
“Who is this woman in garments so fine
That moves with grace and a Gaelic flair”
And so the chamberlain did announce
When Grace came to the home of the Queen
“please, this way, do come with me,
It has been agreed, you shall be seen”
Elizabeth:
Grace I greet you as a friend
Two women of power are we
The title of countess I would convey
If you would swear fealty to me
You did not bow when you approached
And I take no offense I swear
So tomorrow let the people say
We’ve ended this affair
Grace:
Your kindness has been well received
And I wish you no offence
But to me, a title, you cannot convey
For we are equals in every sense
I do however have a request
Amends I would ask of thee
To pardon the crimes you claimed were mine
And let my ancestral lands be
At this point Grace turned to sneeze
A courtier gave to her a silken cloth
The used cloth was cast to the fire
Shocking the Queen and the royal court
The congress had ended and Grace returned home
To the land she loved so well
The Queen had honoured all that was said
So Grace was free from the English hell
