In the land where the valleys sing,
And the sheep outnumber everything,
Lives a dragon so bold, with scales of gold,
Breathing fire while wearing a ring.

The sheep, they graze on grassy slopes,
While leeks grow tall, like veggie ropes.
In every dish, you'll find a leek,
Even in the pies the locals tweak.

Now, the dragon's a foodie, it's well-known,
Prefers his leeks with a crunch and a groan.
He roasts them up with a fiery breath,
Says, "They're the best way to cheat death!"

The rugby lads, they run with pride,
But never fear, a sheep’s by their side.
For in the scrum, if things get tough,
A sheep might just give a friendly nudge.

And what of the rain that pours from the sky?
It makes the daffodils reach up high.
"Lovely weather," the Welshman says,
"Perfect for dragons, sheep, and long days!"

So, if you wander to Wales one day,
With a leek in hand, and a sheep in play,
Beware the dragon, for he's quite keen—
On a leek-and-sheep stew with a side of green!

And as you leave, with a grin so wide,
The Welsh hills echo with pride,
"You've met our sheep, our leeks, our lore—
But there's always room for a dragon's roar!"

Written by Portside