The Legend of King Arthur

A time once was when Britain lay
Ruined by Saxon raids,
Until a prophecy came one day,
That said a king was made.
Uther Pendragon had a son
Which would change this world,
And events that came after dawn
Soon began to unfurl.

Uther’s son Arthur grew to a man,
And one day dad was killed,
So Arthur took up his father’s command,
And then fate did as willed.
At Beltane rites one summer eve
He lay with Morgaine le Faye,
Unknown to both the sin conceived,
But chaste neither could stay.

Arthur was given his trusty sword,
The famed Excalibur,
Arthur married then Britain’s queen,
Named then Gwenhwyfar.
He was crowned rightly Britain’s king,
And drove Saxons away,
His knights of the Table often sing
The glory of that day.

His council, Merlin, bade him then
To see the Lady of the Lake,
She was a righteous, loyal friend,
And would make no mistake.
He left his queen with Lancelot,
His faithful knight, to stay,
But the queen had want to play harlot,
And she had it her way.

Queenless Arthur returned one day,
To Camelot once more,
And found the peace that some would say
He had been looking for.
He held mock games and many fights
For the world to see
That he would be plagued by no plight
Firmness is his key.

Pentecost day at holy mass
Arthur found a cup,
Held by some unworthy lass,
He eyed it, mind corrupt.
The Holy Grail, which Christ had drank?
It could be no other.
Arthur summoned his men of rank
And then said to his brothers:

“Let us go, men, and find the Grail,
The time is right once more,
Lets find the way and blaze the trail,
Bring us to Heaven’s shore.
For this is the cup which Lord gave,
When He passed from here to tuther,
Let us set out, you hearty knaves,
For the cup of Jesus’ brothers.”

For a year and a day the people searched,
But returned to him dismayed,
Was it some trick by the church?
That’s what the rumors say.
One fateful day a dark boy came
To declare his rightful throne,
He was called Mordred by name
And he was Arthur’s own.

Morgaine had let the young man live,
For she could not kill
The only son she had to give,
And no one’s blood should spill.
But here he stood with high demand,
As Saxons lined the shores,
Wanting kingship and all command,
And women and so much more.

Mordred killed Arthur that day,
But he died not alone,
For King Arthur still had say
Of who would take the throne.
Britain lay in chaos again,
Lost from land of peace,
But someday he’ll be back and send
Word he’s back to feast.