It was the spring which began,
a tale of the beast in some far away land.
Warriors came chasing a legend,
never to find any trace of the howling dragon.

Came along a shepherd boy with no sheep,
nor money to pay the barkeep.
Walking down the streets he heard the lore,
The howling dragon is on hunt once more.

The boy saw the warriors preparing,
for the march ahead to their deaths daring.
Food and water all over the floor,
Hungry and foolish the boy went through the door.

Having eaten his fill, slept he like a baby,
Had been years since dreamt his lady.
Came the morning and he opened his eyes,
Only to find himself in carriage in the desert highs.

Startled he saw above the scorching sun,
A kind warrior offered him a bread bun.
Came night again and he tried to escape,
Guarding the door was a big black snake.

Three nights and four days later they reached the cave,
of which stories said to have been visited by the brave.
Waited the warriors for the dark to fall,
the boy had learned to stand up tall.

The howls began and red became the night sky,
Silence was the answer to the warriors merciless cry.
The boy closed his eyes and hid himself,
he now wished that he was back by his bookshelf.

Out came the sun again,
and the boy saw all the blood drain.
Hope was lost or regained,
the boy did as was he was trained.

He ran as far as he could,
for he knew the ways of the wood.
The howling dragon was not a myth,
Wrote the boy on a golden monolith.

He passed on with the knowledge written,
No other soul will now be eaten.
Passed by the monolith a group of nine men,
Carried the stone all to their garden.

Men being men, saw only the gold,
built their fortune after they sold.
The nine pieces now travelled by waggon,
only one of which mentioned the howling dragon.