He himself is the hero of his many mythologies
so grave and green and golden in the sun
wasn’t he the one who slew the dragon in the dark?
may I remark that in the car parking lot his space is reserved
he is there to be served
he is not to be forgotten by those in the know
and everywhere he goes people give him their clothes
like Saint Martin of old we don’t mind being cold
we won’t drink all that wine and it’s perfectly fine
but won’t you tell us a story of glamour and glory
from your many mythologies which would fill several anthologies
we’ve naught better to do than listen to you
as you go on and on and we stifle a yawn
we’ll sit here and be stoic for them’s powerful heroics
all the mountains you climbed and the lemons and limes
and Orange you glad there are halves to be had
and dragons to slay by knight and by day
but by the way, who was the hero of the tale?
who was the V.I.P?
it was me, said he
it was me
I set the captives free
it was me!