The Old Dragon
Once upon a tale or two an old dragon flew,
each new telling his misdeeds grew.
In the mountains ‘bove sheep trimmed vale
his blast of fire made the women wail.
Knights would come from far and near
always shouting for their beer.
"The dragon would be felled this day
and we will feast there where it lay".
Dragon swooped from craggy height;
flash of steel in bright sunlight.
One swift stroke from fore leg dread
plucked the helm right off his head.
The dragon watched as knight ran home
horse all lathered, mouth all foam.
He polished his prize by evening’s red sun
deep sooty laugh for all the day’s fun.