Jinsky offers us an IN TANDEM dragon picture to breathe fire into our poetry and the UK sea-areas.
Dragons don't like South East Iceland.
Far too cold, and not a nice land -
not like the nearer Hebrides
where dragons live on toasted cheese.
They smoke fish daily in area Bailey,
whereas in North and South Utsire(*)
they're fairly fierce and sailors fear a
serpent with a blazing smile
blowing fiery gales from far Fair Isle.
In Faroes, Forties, Fisher, Viking -
beware! Dragons could take a liking
to your mid-life muffin. They just might
toast it and take a German Bight.
But in Forth and Tyne and Thames and Humber
the dragons lunch on sea-cucumber.
In Dogger, famous for its Bank
their fireflames many lighters sank
but their scaly cousins in area Thames
are cool peace-loving dragogems
whose flaming breath warms beaches over
from Portland to Wight cliffs of Dover.
Lang syne in Plymouth, Francis Drake
used dragonian fire-power to bake
Spain's Armada. Light winds on Monday
mean dragon shoals from area Lundy
go cruising up St. George's channel
(It's not the "Irish Sea" That's flannel!)
and when they find the damsel's Trusty
Knight his armour will be all rusty
from salty water leaking in
with the Gulf Stream from cold Malin.
Just one Sole dragon, a real loose cannon
lives by himself in area Shannon.
He's called Fitzroy.
He's a naughty boy,
but if the cap Fitz, Roy will wear it
he's on his own. No need to share it . . .
In Trafalgar, Biscay and Fastnet
I think you might meet dragons, yet -
there are none at all.
(*) pron. with 3 syllables; Ut-see-ra