George and the Gateshead Worme – by Oonah V Joslin 2016

There was a worm lived in Gateshead
in the once-upon-long-ago
with vicious scales and big long nails
a fiery wake that wreaked of death
he carried plague on his foul breath
for he had come up from the SOUTH (boo)
at least that’s how the legend goes.

I’ll eat you all. I’ll ssscorch your town.
I’ll burn your buildingsss to the ground.
I’ll make you plead and beg and weep
unlesss you bring me sheepsss to eat. (hiss)

People complied, what could they do?
‘Til one day all the sheep were gone.
The Worme demanded calves and hogs
horses and asses, cats and dogs,
fowl by the dozen – since they’re small
he downed them whole – feathers and all
and when the livestock was all gone
there was a meeting in the toon.

I’ll eat you all. I’ll ssscorch your fieldsss
I’ll burn your cropsss to cindersss. I’ll
make the river bubble and boil
unlesss you bring me girlsss and boysss. (hiss)

The squire stood there and the thane in
fine threads with haughty demeanour
they’d had turtle doves for breakfast
roast swan and peacocks for dinner
tomorrow they’d have guinea-fowl.
They weren’t getting any thinner! (boo)

We have been forced to make a deal
in these wretched and austere times
with the Worme of Gateshead, people. (boo)
And the Squire wrung his noble hands.

Though it pains us as it pains you
to give in to this vile bully,
we have been forced to make this deal.
You must understand this fully. (boo)

From this day we must deliver
a child a week to The Worme’s lair (hiss)
We’ll draw lots for the sacrifice.
Indeed! I think that’s very fair!

And though the towns folk booed and hissed
the Thane and squire didn’t hear
for they were spirited away
by henchmen – and partook of beer
before going their separate ways
to their out-of-town fortresses.
The first lot fell on gypsy folk
who cursed the Worme that it might choke.

Now and again The Worme came down
just to intimidate the town
swooping and snooping, breathing flame
and he observed the squire and thane
feasting together in the tower
and the squire’s daughter, plump, well fed,
was slurping broth and chomping bread.

Do you really think you can cheat
a dragon with sssuch ssscrawny meat?
Thessse ssskinny children of the poor
are but a morsssel. I want more.
Sssquire, I will have the best you’ve got
and to your daughter fallsss that lot! (hiss)

The squire now wrung his hands for real
he knew there could be no appeal.

Sir George (Huzzah!) was travelling from the south
he was a brave and fearless youth
a knight whose armour shone with truth
he’d heard tell of this Gateshead Worme (hiss)
and thought that it could do no harm
to offer succour to the town
since they were suckers anyway…

Good Knight, as Squire I beg, won’t you
save us from this most evil Worme?

I’ll think about it – here’s the price
you all must pray to Jesus Christ.

He’s eaten all our cheeses too!
The thane was not the brightest coin.
I mean if you become Christians (what dorks!)
I’ll save your daughter and your town.

No problem! Anything you say.
But it’ll have to be today
to save my beautiful daughter
from inevitable slaughter.
She’s up there now you see. Hurry!

Young George leapt on his faithful steed
with his trusty sword Ascalon
and to Gateshead he rode with speed
to find the poisonous dragon.
He glittered in the noonday sun
his hilt with garnets shone and gold.
I will smite thee, O Worme! he cried. (Huzzah!)

The Worme replied, Oooo Aren’t you bold!
Nothing will keep me from my catch
I’m just about to do my worssst
maybe you’d care to ssstay and watch?
or maybe I should cook you firssst! (hiss)

The dragon’s fiery breath surged forth.
The maiden gave a screech of fear. (weak cartoonish screech for HELP)
George thrust his sword into its heart.
Down from his blade a droplet fell.
Up from the ground grew a red rose.

You saved my life the maiden swooned,
you are my hero. You’re a saint.
When I get out of this armour
lass, I think you’ll find – that I aint!

Being well travelled I suppose
there’s always dragons to be killed.
The story goes George plucked the rose.
Saints are allowed some – latitude
for it’s well known – Maids everywhere
have ways of showing – gratitude. (One last HUZZAH! From all the readers)