The language of the 1920s may be rather flowery for our liking, but this verse written by a father to his son, conjures up the Viking spirit in eastern England. Many places in Lincolnshire have names or suffixes which hark back to the Vikings.
"TO MY SON. Spray of the Viking from over the sea, Sprig of Old England entrusted to me: Spray on the sprig ever hardens the tree, Spray-toughened sprig, you are born to be free. You are sprung from Eastern Counties, where the winds your strength renew With their red loam's glowing riches and their skies flecked grey and blue, Where the fathers of your fathers with patient, tireless skill Have sewn and reaped and garnered o'er each beauteous vale and hill. Where the glorious wolds sweep rolling, richly garlanded with trees, With the keen winds ever blowing stiff with brine from off the seas. Those seas whereof the rovers were forerunners of your race, And gave to you your stature, and your vigour and your grace. Let your courage ever harden, let your sinew never slack, Fight on grimly just as they did, and whatever else you lack, You will have the exaltation of a struggle bravely fought - This the prize! whate'er the gleanings - so your Viking fathers taught. C.N.G." The Stamford Mercury, December, 1927.