I reckon there will be a big entry for this Comp. So here is a quick one to sink without trace.
In all the years I’ve been your wife
you’ve kept away from manly strife,
leaving me to fight the wars.
The tribe now calls you Her Indoors.
My manner’s gentle and refined
and though it may not call to mind
those bellicose old tribal gits
like hapless Vercingetorix
it has its uses, as you know.
I cook and clean and iron and sew.
I only wish that you had taught as
much to your two flame-haired daughters.
Fighting does not work for me.
I’d ask the Romans round for tea --
which might just be a teeny-weeny
bit more help to your Iceni.
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