Fall of the Great and Terrible.
1.
Locked in a fortress, miles below ground, lurks an age-old menace not to be found.
Sleeping in grottoes once ruled by men, now ravaged by smoke, is the dragons den.
Treasure of lore surround every side, and all that glitters beheld by his eye.
Day in, day out, he wallows in riches. Foot, by foot. Inch, after inches.
The sun doth not shine, nor the moon to glow, in the deepest caverns of the world below.

2.
He is pleased with himself there in the dark. Circling about as if he were a shark.
Swimming in waves of silver, gold, gems.
Diving under the current, and surfacing again.
Alone he is, this excessive beast. Until hunger calls forth, his need for a feast.
Then does this monster hence there forth, out into the night far into the north.
Where hamlets of men lay far down below.
Under a shadow as cold as the crystal snow.

3.
This great wings beat, in a rhythmic churn.
And the monster prepares his breath to burn.
Houses, farms, castle, square. Everything looks on him with a great despair.
No horse is safe nor, sheep, nor pig.
Not stack of hay, no cart, nor rig.
The beast IS fury the beast IS hate.
Do say your prayers and seal your fate.

4.
No one can with stand a brute of this might.
It is the wise who run, and a fool who fights.
He will take what he wishes, and destroy what he can.
He will boil the fishes and turn lakes into sand.

5.
That is, until a glimmer, shimmer, and gleam.
Distract his hellion from thoughts and deed.
For there is nothing more this scald creature loves,
than a trinket, a treasure, or some token of Doves.
He must have… will have… or damn it all.
Take with him riches. Or all shall fall.

6.
Crimson rubies much like his hide, deep green emeralds to match his eyes.
He is beauty, he is malice, he is majesty, death.
It is all he ever will be until a volcanic last breath.

7.
Ah yes tis all so true… but lust makes him forget, men are intelligent too.
A fool yes, as I once said would fight until a dragon is dead.
And fight he shall and fight he will for love is what sets a motion, a swill.
And inkling of hope set apart from despair as a young man dash up a castle stair.
Leap by leap up he sails.
To a buttress, under fire, and grizzle hail.

8.
A single black arrow, long and dark.
May it shoot straight and find its mark.
It is said the dragon has a heart, black as it may.
But often time’s legends flee fact and a day.

9.
One shot, one kill may it be precise.
Or the land be charred under ruin and spite.
The dragon flies for fixed flashes of gold.
In the keep of the lake men there of old.

10.
He cannot see his life will end, this giant, arrogant bat.
What is a mere man to him? Why nothing more than a gnat.
Lust now seared in pain a place he thought hid.
A bare, knoll, of flesh between third and fourth rib.

11.
With a sound of thunder, and a shaking of the sky,
down,
down,
down, came the titan to die.
Fire scorned, fire quenched, as water plunged and doth lung wrench.
Water chasing lava, Smoldering smoke.
Extinguishing flame on the town and meek folk.
No more fear, nor death, nor hate.
Say your prayers dear dragon. For you have met your fate.