flying sheep mascot


a tale in ten verses



Beyond the spires of citadels,
That gazed on storm swept moors,
Lay huddled 'neath the siege of rain,
A town on ocean shores.




The downpour kept all hatches shut,
And no one glimpsed the shape,
Which crept from crag to shadow deep,
Obscured by midnight's cape.




Alert, it was, with eyes ablaze,
And scales along its spine,
A dagger clutched in wretched claws,
Foul murder its design.




It drew its cloak against the surge,
And stole through cobbled streets,
The Princess still asleep, it knew,
In linen white and neat.




A prophecy, the Shaman warned,
Would doom the creature's kin,
So virgin Princess, soft and sweet,
Tonight would be done in.




The guards were all despatched in hush,
With skills adeptly honed,
A slash, a stab, a cunning blow,
Until it stood alone.




The map! It searched its pockets fast,
Staring at the parchment,
A scribbled hall, a corridor,
There, the girl's apartment.




The creature found its breath was short,
A charge coursed through its veins,
And all the while the darkness howled,
And lashed the town with rain.




As arcs of lightning flecked the skies,
And thunder made its din,
The killer reached the young girl's room,
And prised its way within.




Alas, its quest to no avail,
'Twas there the stalker got it,
The Princess had her crossbow armed,
And simply aimed and shot it!