I thought, I have some dragons, might as well.

And so I took them to Canary Wharf

And let them off the lead to go and play.

They wouldn't threaten anybody's life,

Incinerate financial analysts,

Or anything like that. They're far too sweet.

But dragons tend to look like they could kill.

Enough to cause a panic on The Tube.

​

I thought we'd make commuters lose their minds,

But all they did was stop, bring out their phones

And take a photo. Some just carried on.

​

A fairly disappointing start.

I called the dragons back to me,

And, getting on a westbound train,

I thought we'd go and try our best

To make a scene at London Bridge.

​

More photos and a grin or two.

Somebody even spoke to me.

"What breed are they?" A woman asked.

I said, "They're dragons." She said, "Yes,

But what's the breed?" I didn't know.

She asked to stroke the smallest one,

Kimura, so I let her try,

But warned he had a nasty bite.

He nuzzled her and she was thrilled.

The others sniffed her bag and shoes.

​

At London Bridge we struggled through the doors

And got a gasp or two. Encouraging.

Perhaps, I thought, we might discover that

The tourist element is more inclined

To view a flying serpent as a threat.

But clearly not. The dragons were a hit,

And everybody wanted photographs.

For all my efforts, not a single scream.

And no-one ran, and no-one caused a fuss.

We got a little mention on the news,

And hashtag #dragonsonthejubilee

Was trending briefly. That was all there was.