A pony pulled his two-wheel cart
Past guards and through the gate.
It carried his supplies of art,
With which he would create.
He could have been a fearless knight,
Protecting King and Queen,
But painting was his great delight,
Especially marine.
He heads for misty ocean cliffs,
Those rugged, ragged rocks;
Then, breathing in great salty whiffs,
Sets up his painting stock.
His name is Sedgewick Trumblebum.
No sword has touched his hand.
But as an artist, he's become
The best in all the land.
The King will pay a bag of gold
If Trumblebum can paint
The darkest dragon to behold,
And make the ladies faint.
Legends tell of lizard wings,
Of snakes with sharpest claws,
Of monstrous alligator things
In alligator jaws.
He stores his paint in oyster shells...
Blue, yellow, red, and white.
The background will be all pastels;
The dragon, black as night.
He takes some brushes from his cloak,
Made fresh from tail of squirrel.
A wooden panel made of oak
Will soon feel Sedgewick's swirl.
Where crooked cliffs are splished and splashed
With pounding ocean flow,
The bones of whales lay dished and dashed,
As white as any snow.
So Sedgewick waits in dreadful watch,
Heart beating in his ear.
There is a cave, a nasty notch,
Where Dragon should appear.
He glances at the oaken board.
The masterpiece unfolds.
Each color needs to be explored.
The sunset turns to gold.
A dab of yellow, dab of blue,
A little dab of red,
Green ocean waves thrash into view.
The painter tilts his head.
For suddenly, the fates provide
The daughter of the King,
A princess with a joy to ride,
And a voice to sing.
Amble, gambol, ramble, roam,
Along the beach below,
She reels and falls into the foam!
Her horse runs to and fro!
As Sedgewick watches, paralyzed,
The dragon dashes out!
It plunges to the maiden's side,
And sets her on its snout!
Then up the slippery precipice,
The dragon swiftly climbs.
Its curly claws don't tear her dress.
Nor is she begrimed.
The reptile reaches Trumblebum
And lays the Princess down.
He's gentle for an ocean scum
Of fiery breath renown.
The monster spreads its wings of might,
And flies into the air.
It disappears in fading light,
Away from cavern lair.
Now Sedgewick's hands are shaking!
He completely lost his voice!
Alas, there's no mistaking.
He has to make a choice.
Should he return the princess?
Her rescue he could feign.
Or paint the serpent's head and chest,
While fresh inside his brain?
But Sedgewick does the proper thing
Instead of scrappy schemes.
He takes the damsel to the King,
While she's still in her dreams.
He tells the court, "It was not me
Who saved the princess dear.
It was the dragon of the sea
That fills us through with fear."
"No harm came to the maiden sweet.
She surely would have drowned.
The dragon laid her at my feet,
And left without a sound."
And so his final choice erased
All hope of shining gold.
But tears ran down the royal face,
For goodness manifold.
The King and Queen were grateful,
Their daughter at their side,
Told Sedgewick it was fateful
That she should be his bride.
Prince Sedgewick was a painter.
He painted all his life.
Instead of monsters of the deep,
His subject was his wife.
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