Was digging around in my old school stuff...

[skull_bearer]

... at 1am. Hey, don't looking for reason in the actions of a chronic insomniac

Found a story I'd written aged... *mental mathematics* about eight. It's called 'The Final Defeat of St George', and it's funny to read something written at a time when I wasn't completely disillusioned with religion. Wasn't nice to St George though, he lost the fight and ran off with his pants on fire.

Here's a poem I wrote on the same subject when I was more than a little jaded, if somewhat more skilled.

St George and the Dragon
(or The Curse of the Tin Opener)


The sun shone down
It shone on the fields
It shone on the hills
It shone on a cave

It shone on a knight
St George, the bringer of light
He called into a cave so dark
'Come out wyrm, so hark
For I will slay you with one stroke'
The dragon stuck its head out and spoke
'Blimey, not another one, it's boring
The way I settle down and knights come riding
At least when I get you, you taste like chicken'

The dragon pulled back and went to the kitchen
Where it kept its knight-bane most deadly
Breaking his tone, George said: 'Come out already!'
'I'm coming, St George. No may, no might'
It exited its cave and St George turned white
Never had he seen such fell a threat
His mouth went dry and his pants went wet

The dragon advanced holding its weapon high
And in his terror George wailed to the sky:
'Oh God almighty, spare me this fate
Smite this wyrm before it's too late'
But God was not listening, St George was alone
The dragon leapt and tore him to the bone
The saint's armour hindered it not
As it dropped St George into the pot
Said as it leaned back and the pot it eyed
'How many uses for a tin opener?', it sighed.