Once, there was a dragon in her cave,
a different universe, a different day-
her wings, they said, were from the darkness in witch she was bred.
Her eyes, they said, were from all the ones that venture in her cave, and take
A coin, a spear, a necklace, a books page,
but in her fire rage,
she captured there souls, and once again put her lonely head, on the gold wished upon by the ones now dead, she basks in the villages dread.
But once, a maid, force to flee, came to the dragon and asked of she, for a tiny gold coin, a desperate plea, and the dragon nodded her head,
For just because they said, does not make it true, so let me say the truth for you:
the dragon's name was not one of distain, and her wings were not darkness of doom, but peaceful of night, her eyes not from lost souls, exept maybe her own-
She does not mind those who ask, only ones who ask in vain, and, yes, I will say her name -
But don't worry, its not a name of doom.