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St George's Day at St Thomas'

Les's monologue

St George – the Dream

Now, you’ve heard of Robin Hood, and his merry men, of course,
Of the poor old King who cried ‘My kingdom for a horse’
Brave tales are told of knights of old
How they did things quite stupendous
Then of course there’s Dr Crippin, whose CV is quite horrendous

This old world is filled with all sorts of folk
There’s good and bad – some happy – some saf
Lend an ear and I’ll tell of George, a young orphan, indentured to good Farmer Brown
When George was found starving, and dying, the good couple did not let him down

They gave him a room and a bed, good victuals so he was well fed
He learned to reap, to plough and to sow, to be a good shepherd each lamb he must know
The kindness he was shown was etched on his heart – deep in his soul he played such a part.

Now as a man, this love he longed to share, with the poor and afflicted in the violent world out there.

One day as he sat alone just watching o’er the sheep

He drifted off into a deep and peaceful sleep.

He dreamed while strolling through the forest he came upon a clearing,
Many villagers were gathered and their frightened voices he was hearing.

A beautiful maiden, her hands and feet bound, lay out in front, midst the flowers, alone on the ground

Legend has it a dragon near there do dwell,

And many a victim to his evil fire had fell.

So to placate this fire breathing beast,

Sacrifices wew laid out daily for his feast.

Cloeolinda, the King’s only daughter so fair

Was the one bold young George could see lying there.

His blood ran cold as he thought of her fate
To save her he must, so for the dragon he would wait.

The air it got hotter and the sulphurous smell

Increased as the dragon came on creating hell.

George felt so alone, weak, unarmed, at a loss,

So he whispered a quick prayer – made the sign of the cross.

In a flash, to his amazement, he saw at his side

A brave white charger, dressed and ready to ride.

On his arm was a shield, at his side hung his sword,

In his hand was a lance with its point sharp and broad.

On his charger he waited, his heart beating fast,

The dragon came nearer, with an almighty blast.

A charge and a lunge – but he missed by a mile;

The old dragon was showing all his cunning and guile!

George’s strength was now failing as the heat was so high

He put his faith in the Lord as he looked to the sky.

Once more they did close – now his aim was so true

The evil dragon lay dying – his heart run through.

The maiden of course was now saved from her fate.

The King was delighted; offered George gold on a plate.

But George turned it down – saying ‘Give to the poor,

Good deeds are worth much more than gold, and our faith even more.

My friends, I know what you’re thinking – tis all but a myth,

And this version is mine – I freely admit.

So think of old England as you go on your way,

And stand up for your faith like St George day by day.

Take your sword to all evil, give your help to the weak,

Keep your faith on a high ‘til of victory we speak.

As our patron saint and our mentor, here’s a bond we can forge,

May I give you a toast, to England and St George!

Les Besant

April 2010