Poem -

The Druid.

When times were young, well younger than today.

Lived learned men with a lot of wise words to say.

The Druid sat by his ritualistic night time fire.

And on his body white flowing robes was his attire.

His hair and beard so long and white, made him an eye worthy sight.

His ancient tongue did speak in verse, as he studied the far off universe.

A learned man from Celtic birth, who respected all things on this earth.

He believed in what his eyes did see, and not on if or maybe.

A Celtic Druid of high regard, and his believe he would stand up for and guard.

Here he sits reciting words of wisdom, in a kingdom that believes in truth and freedom.

A man of power.

Filled with peace not war.

A Celtic Druid.

Filled with magical fluid.

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