In Avalon

He lies waiting in restful Avalon
Noble Arthur, the once and always King
Awaiting his final majestic quest
To save this land when its need is greatest
To again rise and grasp Excalibur

So why, my friend, did we not see his steed
Memorialised in the weave of Hastings

He did not rise to fight for either rose
When the most noble north was torn in two

Cromwell did not face the round table's ire
When the line of kings fell before his might

And when German bombers lit up the sky
They were not felled by the lake lady's sword

Some take this to mean Arthur does not wait
He died a mighty but still mortal man
I shiver instead that he does still lie
And waits for a danger beyond his strength
Leaving us without the hope of legend