Poetry

Friday, 15 December 2017

St George

I must become St George
and kill that awful dragon
He will become the death of me
If I don't race the wagon
I'll chase him out over sea
I'll bring his head back on a platter
Mother save the breath in me
To go and fight the dragon

You must go son
I've wished it
For a thousand love lorn days
Your brothers all have fished it
In the seas arms they've swayed
They've lost their lives to stop it
They've given all they had
Now you must make their sacrifice
You must choose good over bad

Mother I will fight him
Bring me my sword and shield
I'll cross over on the ships lanyard
Soon he will taste my steel

The going will be dangerous
You must cross the sea and desert
You must find the tower
Where his black heart sleeps
And put an end to his terrors

He will breathe fire and scorch you
You will fear his terrible wrath
But you must be so brave my son
You must give all that you have

I have nothing left to give
You are the last child of my womb
With you the legacy of your father ends
With you comes an end to the doom

After you die, as die you must
A stone statue will be raised
In your remembrance
To show how men fight to triumph
Over death
To leave but lives of stone

Only our words will triumph over death
For words are dead but brought to life
Through breath
Spoken then echoed through the chambers
Underneath, 
the vaults of a dying sun

Oh mother, now my time has come
I wish for one thing before I run
To love a woman, to live a life
Before I give this sacrifice

But son, your life is to one end
To murder the terrible, fearsome fiend
Who devours the land, brings pain and famine
Your purpose on earth is to kill the dragon

If I must go,
I give this kiss to you dear mother
But to my lover my bliss
She knows me, where I'd rather be
Than travelling alone, to meet my foe
Aboard this ship, to meet my destiny

Farewell then to England
Farewell my country green
Across the scorched and desert lands
I go,
To meet the dragon supreme

The bells did ring,
In the heat they sang
Of a thousand slain
Englishmen
But on he strode
Believing his road would not
be the same

Until through the smoke he sees
The black tower rising in misery
And patrolling all around it goes
That Dragon his most awful of foes

Come now dragon to battle you and me
Let me put an end to this misery
And then the dragon spoke
With fiery breath
And his scales shimmered
And he smelt of death

Saint George thrust his steed to the fray
And his steel sunk deep into the dragon that day
The clash of armour, the beat of wings
The terrible fire, and smell of burning things

Late the next day the smoke had cleared
The tower rose, but the sun appeared
The Dragon lay smitten on the scorched earth
And St George wandered back to the land of his birth


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