I’m sure, like me, you’ve all heard tell,
Of George, the Saint of England.
This man, we’re told, was brave as hell,
But truth leaves one disillusioned.

As a lass from beyond the wall
The Emperor Hadrian built.
I like my men big, strong and tall,
And I really dig the kilt.

It’s nought to me, this tale I weave,
For Andrew is my Saint,
I seek only the truth to leave,
An accurate picture paint!

For a start George wasn’t even from
This sceptred isle at all.
But hailed instead, from Ünterzohm,
And neither was he tall!

The story tells of maiden fair,
Tied firmly to a post,
Just outside of dragon’s lair,
About to be made toast.

Up came George, in armour gleaming,
On charger big and white,
To all intents and purpose seeming,
The knight in shining armour bright.

He bravely faced and killed that beast,
And carried home the maid.
In his honour they held a feast,
And history was duly made.

In actual fact, this story is
Completely t’other way.
For knight’s name was Ali Aziz,
From Palestine he hailed.

Knight Ali was a Saracen,
And fought the Christian knights,
He lived near to Jerusalem,
Where he got in many fights.

Now he was captured at the height,
Of crusading kings.
Taken off by Frankish Knights,
With loot and other things.

In a forest, not far from Warsaw
He escaped with other Turks,
And formed a band of nasty outlaws,
Amongst the trees they lurked.

To Merrie England, they made their way,
For just like now, it seems,
They heard that there, they gave out pay
To foreigners with dreams.

On arrival, they were shattered -
These rumours just weren't true.
They started robbing and battered
Some pilgrims up near Crewe.

The Saracens, once more bad guys,
Were feared for miles around,
The populace was terrorised,
As they stole their every pound.

As the real George was far away,
In lederhosen clad.
A need there was, to save the day –
A hero, to make men glad.

But in these dark and dreary climes,
Heroes were as rare as gold,
An ad they placed, in Ye Olde Times,
“Wanted – A Hero bold!”

But no takers came and answered ad,
The outlaws just got worse,
The local people, enough they’d had,
Like you and this damn verse.

There was, however, one brave maid,
As fed up as the rest.
These bandits took just all she’d made,
And left her in her vest.

Determined to see justice done,
She left that awful place,
And went in search of just the one,
To solve this sorry case.

But heroes were in short supply,
They were all abroad,
So she laid down her head and cried
So sad was this fair broad.

As Nancy laid there, weeping loud,
A passing dragon heard her.
And before her he gently bowed.
He’d never dream to hurt her.

This Dragon’s name was Jor Ree Gee,
In his peculiar tongue,
I am sure that you can now see,
What that name has become.

“What ails you lass?” the dragon said,
To weeping girl so sad.
She stopped her tears and raised her head,
Then almost wet her pants.

It isn’t every day, you see
A dragon green and red,
Asking after how well you be,
And shaking his big head.

Now Jor, the dragon, huge and strong,
Was in truth the sweetest bloke.
He always sought to battle wrong,
And liked to help poor folk.

But Dragons had an awful press,
In Medieval days.
This fact old Jor sought to address,
In many different ways.

Young Nancy caught her breath once more
And knew he wouldn’t eat her,
She told him of her tale so raw,
And of the men who beat her.

This tale made Jor most angry when
He heard of her sorry plight.
He decided to help her then
And for her corner fight.

The pair walked back from whence she’d come
Many miles away.
She discovered Jor wasn’t dumb,
And he found her most gay.
(Old English meaning happy and fun loving)

You understand they travelled light,
To avoid being seen.
You see, their friendship wasn’t right,
And to fight, Jor wasn’t keen.

As it happened, Aziz and his band
Had just robbed some peasants.
The gold Aziz had in his hand,
Had been meant for orphans.

These victims poor, were left bereft,
At roadside all a quiver.
Aziz and his chaps, laughing left
Them on wrong side of the river.

They settled down to sleep that night,
Happy with their plunder.
They were to get a mighty fright,
Split pants with farts asunder!

A fearsome sight came from the gloom,
With fiery breath and brimstone,
Jor - the epitome of doom,
Scared them to the very bone.

Aziz and friends went white with fright,
And ran around in panic.
All their pants they filled with shite,
Their actions truly manic!

With blasts of roasting fiery breath
The fight was never started.
Charcoal figures laid on the heath,
For Aziz and chums, life departed!

Life in that land was much improved,
Folks came to dance a jig.
Nancy’s boyfriend was not approved,
For Jor was much too big!

So the ill-matched pair left them there,
And looked for pastures new.
The fate’s unknown of Nancy fair,
And her dragon love so true.

So now you see how Jor Ree Gee,
Was hero of this tale.
But men were men, full of envy,
Turned it on its tail.

 

 

You

If you have any comments about this poem then please

click the feedback button above and post them in my forum.

 

Back to My Poetry Page

The Authors Haunt Author Directory

The Authors Haunt Library

The Authors Haunt Home

 

 

 

Stories, Poetry & Content © 2010 Tanya Allan

 

Site Layout and Graphics © 2010 Rob Hawes