Classic Poem

England, my well-loved native land,
How strange it seems that we
Who might be walking hand in hand
Should thus estranged be!

'Tis true I've called thee every name
Invective's armoury lends,
But still I love thee all the same,
So why can't we be friends?

Forgive the words I used, forget
The wrath I could not check,
Come to my arms, dear land, and let
Me snivel on thy neck!