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.

Jojie ’98