Through the mists of Avalon; guarding King Arthurs tomb
a great white gleaming, scaly beast; ever watchful not to roam.
Bright blue eyes pierce the distance; wary of mere mortals
straying near, at dusk or dawn, to enter this otherworld portal.
His is old, but don’t be fooled; his strength belies his age
but wise is he beyond his years; he will not attack in rage.
Do not fear; he will not hurt those that wish no harm
for them that come to revere; he will be still and calm
But woe to them of nefarious heart that come to raze and plunder
fierce the wrath of righteousness; they will rue their blunder.
Fiery breath and roar of thunder; their first and final warning
sudden flight in talons sharp; they drop as stones to death by drowning.
His duty done; he returns to roost among the crags so high
he settles down, but does not sleep; the grave he keeps, nearby.
His eternal rest will come; when a new sentinel alights this shore
as wise and strong as he has been; King Arthurs tomb is safe once more.
Written by Siona Robertson