Across the valleys, and the rivers,
this story is to give you shivers,
For if you listen closely by,
you will hear her lonely cry.

The King looked down with a glowing frown,
his head too large for his gleaming crown,
And there before him stood the robber,
his shirt was ripped and full of slobber.

“How dare thy try to rob my wife?
What’s next? A murder with a butter-knife?
Snap out of it you feeble man,
Forget your evil, selfish plan.”

“To find the woman you desire,
you must go past the blazing fire,
Your travel leads you to a lake,
where you must slay that monstrous snake!”

He set off on his deadly quest,
to fight, and slay the vicious pest,
He walked across the murky field,
dragging along his sword and shield.

His journey took a ‘little’ while,
until he came upon an isle,
the lonely cave stood there forgotten,
most likely cursed and jolly rotten!

And as he listened closely by,
he heard a shrieking, painful cry,
Coming from inside the den,
where died a hundred brave young men.

His footsteps echoed, loud and clear,
his blood was pumping, soaked in fear,
he weaved his way throughout the dark,
until he stumbled on the spark.

His heart was like a live volcano,
his thoughts were in a large tornado,
his hopes and dreams were like a shadow,
as precise as any arrow.

The spark had given him some light,
as not to get a deadly bite,
and there he saw, upon the floor,
the nasty dragon with a snore.

He lay before an open fire,
the young man thought of his aspire,
he crept along the dirty ground,
would he be eaten, burnt or drowned?

And there he saw the snake upright,
as almost ready for the fight,
the man took out his shining sword,
and prayed to his almighty god.

He tried to stab, but could not reach,
and then he heard the shallow screech,
as if from pain the dragon cried,
and there the man had bravely tried.

He stuck the dagger in his chest,
and finished off the injured pest,
he sprinted over to his love,
to find her face was a white dove.

Her clothes were stained in bitter blood,
and covered in the murky mud,
and there her carcass has to lie,
for her own fate, to slowly die.

The myth must end right here and now,
a clap, a whoop and then a bow,
however the man’s heart was broken,
and so this myth is to be spoken.

Across the valleys, and the rivers,
this story is to give you shivers,
For if you listen closely by,
you will hear her lonely cry.