In
the days of kings and knights
when
there were foes and beasts to fight,
our
fathers did things differently
and
thought in other ways than we.
Around
the time of cold Yuletide,
the
monarch bored of food and sighed
for
tasty, roasted dragon tail,
and
love of other food would fail.
The
mighty hunters all around
would
hunt until a tail was found:
a
risky job for skill and grit
requiring
all their strength and wit.
Early
in the snowy morn,
the
leading hunter blew his horn
and
all the hunters started out
to
hunt in all the woods about.
A
hefty warrior on a horse
set
out upon a northern course.
He
found a beast that was a bear
and
fought him with a courage rare.
The
bear's sharp claws slashed trees to earth.
The
warrior's hand went to his girth;
he
drew a shining, two-edged knife
and
fought, but sadly lost his life.
One
nimble hunter climbed a tree
to
see where might a dragon be.
He
got a nasty squirrel peck
and
fell and landed on his neck.
All
hunters went from near to far,
under
the sun, under the stars.
They
searched and hunted avidly
but
nothing dragon did they see.
One
young, annoying kitchen lad
wanted
to find a dragon bad.
He
snuck out of the castle gate
and
ran into the worst of fate:
He
barely went a hundred yards
when
rising from the snowy sward
a
stream of poison fire flew
and
cooked the laddie through and through.
A
brave and charming nobleman
was
traveling around his land.
He
saw the dragon's smacking lips,
and
wicked eyes and tail whip.
He
saw the dragon's belly bulge
from
what he'd viciously indulged.
He
saw the curved and scaly feet,
the
pointed fangs he used to eat.
He
reached behind him for his spear;
he
saw the dragon drawing near.
The
dragon pounced upon his arm,
with
every aim to cause him harm.
The
nobleman fell to the ground.
The
dragon swung him all around.
The
nobleman was filled with fear,
he
quickly snatched his shiny spear.
He
thrust it at the dragon's head
but
missed and knocked its back instead.
The
dragon grabbed him by his feet,
preparing
breaths of fiery heat.
Hanging
helpless upside-side-down,
the
nobleman twisted around
and
aimed his knife toward the part
that
had no scales. It was the heart.
The
dragon fell upon its face.
Snow
melted in the quiet place.
A
winter's gray and stormy sky
beheld the place the dragon died.
The
kingdom's stony castle walls
were
hung with wreaths, and in the halls
a
table set with such a feast-
with
every food from great to least.
And
in the center was the tail,
cooked
with spicy apple ale,
almost
eighty inches long
and
smelling yummy, sweet and strong.
The
king greeted the nobleman.
They
sat before the steaming pan
and
ate a lot of dragon meat
(which,
by-the-way, is quite a treat.)