Beddgelert

In the 13 th Century long ago
A hound called gelert and as we know
Was at home to protect
The cottagers son
When the master left
And what he’d done
Was attack and kill a mighty wolf
He protected the son
You bet he did
When his master returned
The baby gone
The master imagined
The dog upon
The babies bed
Covered in blood
So he shot the dog
Shot him dead

Outside he found a great black wolf
Bitten by Gelert
And realised
His son was safe
The wolf he’d killed
In a grave near where
The dogs blood spilled

Llewelyn the Great
His cherished hound
That he’s doubted his loyalty
He left in the ground
To regret the seriousness
Inflicted by
His withering hand
Which is, now why

The hounds grave
Forms part of the name
Of the village
Taking no real blame
The meandering river
Flows over the stones and under the bridges
That Nature owns

Song birds thrill us
Water sounds too
Lovely stone cottages
All on view
A beautifully charming village green
Rupert Bears artistry
Perhaps a scene
or two
From the story books
Just might be
Inspiration it seems to me