It seems to me, though I'm not the best player,
we treat the world of dragons as a game.
For their attacks and hungers we don't blame
but celebrate, as if we did not care,
for vanished village or for mountain bare
the beast that desolated with a flame
the marvellous places we had sought to tame.
We praise the dragon, curse the dragonslayer.
Of Perseus we seem to say the least
although we know that upon alien strand
his spear straight-pierced the monster's horrid gorge;
instead we sing of the great hungry beast,
and in our narrow, comfortable land,
do execrate the hated name of George.