Three of my sons in one afternoon, and the fourth one three weeks before, I came down to the Sussex field where ravens had the morning first, the shields still lying where they locked, with no one left to hold them up. I have no sword, I have no prayer, I have the gold of Godwin's house, set him on one side of the scale and let me fill the other side. Give me his weight in gold, give me my son to bury, take every ring from every hand, but give him back to me. The duke would not look at the gold, he would not touch a single ring, he gave my son to a Norman spade and sent the cart toward the sea, no bell, no priest, no Wessex ground, only the gulls above the shore. I have no sword, I have no prayer, I have no son left in this field, so keep your scale and keep your shore, I'll find another gate to hold. Give me his weight in gold, give me my son to bury, you would not take the gold of kings, so you will take my war. Harold, Gyrth and Leofwine, and Tostig by his brother's hand, Sweyn on the road from Jerusalem, and Wulfnoth in a Norman cell, six sons, and England kept them all. Give me his weight in gold, give me my son to bury, six sons I gave to England's ground, and not one grave is mine. They wrote above him, guard the shore, so guard it, Harold, guard it well.
