The swords of war put away
so we eat and drink today
our dragons are roosting now
we gave each of them a cow

Winning battles from the sky
we ride their backs as dragons fly
slashing swords at high speed
while piloting our noble steeds

When the enemy surrender refuses
we burn them all with dragon fuses
fiery breath from brimstone lungs
their screams are the last song sung

Our girls our ready with our mead
an epic poem of glory I'll read
and then a kiss at nights end
then off to bed so wounds can mend