He is the last of all the dragons

With the fire in their hearts.

On the mountainside he lounges,

And drinks himself apart.

Languidly he lies about

And lonely, he does sip

From his large, golden goblet

Till there’s nothing but a drip.



You see,

Once he had companions,

Fellow Dragons like himself;

But then there came The Great Flood

Which moved with speed and stealth.

It rushed over the plains so fast,

Crushing all that crossed it’s way.

Dragons everywhere fell tumbling to the ground

With a roar and a rumble;

Such tremendous sound.

Dragons fell about with a mighty, splashy thud!

Now the land is all in tatters

And dragons beneath the mud.



Apart from the lonely dragon

With the fire in his heart.

He sits upon the mountainside

And he drinks himself apart.