Looking for a dragon to slay.

One a warrior, another a mage,

And the last a lass with a harp to play

“In The Dungeon there is eternal night

, But they heard an enormous squirm.

So the wizard gave them magic sight,

And right there was a huge scary Wyrm.

“The dragon cocked one eye wide

And almost too quick to see,

The warrior was toasted, or maybe fried

And the mage was fricasseed.

“But the bard did use some magic grease

To cover her skin and clothes,

So the dragon’s breath was a summer breeze

And frail as a late summer rose.

“On her harp the lass played a song

Of the world when it was green.

Orc’s were fat, young dragons were strong,

And men were creatures of dream.

“Provoked beside the sunless lakes

And mourning that old green time,

The angry dragon slew three drakes,

Before it was killed by a slime.

“And now this tale of the monster’s end

Has come to be known by its term

By words of wisdom common meant