Then spake one called Carver,
An ancient story myth,
Of a bravest hero,
With keenness and with pith:
A Noble King and Noble Queen,
Sent men upon a quest,
To rescue their only,
Precious and Lonely,
Daughter, the Princess of Threst.
She was captured by an old,
Witch who then believed,
By taking the heir,
To her castle-lair,
The King’s throne might be relieved.
Many a hero attempted the deed,
To rescue the girl from the keep,
Guarded by one,
The Fearless of None,
Dragon, who coveted sleep.
Countless they tried to find the young girl,
And save her from terror and strife,
Yet hard as they tried,
Most of them fried,
When waking the Dragon to life.
But one noble squire, a young boy from Threst,
He sported a different plan.
He did not attack,
Nor did he look back.
He walked where many had ran.
He silently stole toward the shackléd form,
Of the Dragon asleep on the stone.
Though his heart was cold,
His actions were bold,
And he faced the monster alone.
With one solid stroke he severed the chain,
That held the monster at bay.
By setting it free,
He though hopefully,
It would leave and go on its way.
For half of a moment there was a bright flash,
Bindingly bright as the sun.
A Dragon no more,
Lay on the floor,
But the form of the lost precious one.
The evil curse of the wicked old hag,
Was broken. The rescue was made.
The Squire of Threst,
Finished his quest,
By a kinder use of the blade.
So now all who hear the story I tell,
Of the Brave Squire of Threst,
Know afore the fight,
To do what is right,
Is the plan that tends to work best.