Boadicea

I was the husband of the great Boadicea
She was a good wife but now - O dear!

I died supported by her passion and love
But I'd hardly call her a peaceful dove

We were civilised, I had a long Roman name
Now my wife is a warrior of international fame

The Romans asked for more taxes - she replied "Go to Hell!"
To persuade her they whipped her, raped her daughters as well

You just don't DO that to our blue-blooded bitches
Queens of the Iceni, horsewomen, post-graduate witches

She's painted with woad, renamed herself Boudicca
Sharpened her weapons, revived the arts of Wicca

She's rallying her armies, adding scythes to her wheels
She'll give the Roman taxmen no doubt how she feels

Ere long she will join me, her witch wisdom knows
But not 'fore she's slaughtered thousands of foes

Our rulers must remember not to over-tax the Brit
Else meet "Death or Glory" mid tons of horse-****.