Now is the Winter of our Discontent, Made glorious Summer by this Son of Yorke: And all the clouds that lowr'd upon our house In the deepe bosome of the Ocean buried. And they came forth from the Pennines, from the mighty house of Halifax to inflict upon the house of Stanley a mighty battle. They saw there chance as Stanley had only days before fought and won against all odds a battle so big that even the ale houses of Yorke had spoken with raptures about it. As they came off the snow covered caps of the hills they fought hard and were only minutes away from a victory that all knights, Lords and viceroys would hold up there tankards and verily speak of this time that they came to the mighty house of Lancaster and at last won, But no wait up came a man not large in statue not immense in the art of warfare but with a heart of oak and a red rose he smote down the white rose and sent them back to the dark side of the pennines. The name of Craney will forever be known in Halifax as a bloody draw.
My apologises to Willie Shakesphere.
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