A noble prince both tall and proud
knew he could slay the fiend.
He bragged and gloated nice and loud,
prepared to hear it scream.
The people begged him night and day –
the beast was roaming near,
but someone else was on the way;
someone the beast would fear.
‘Oh no, good sir,’ the maiden said,
‘this brute is mine to kill.’
She drew a sword, eyes fixed ahead
and leapt with spark and skill.
Its scaly hide and scalding breath
were dreadful to behold.
The prince himself now feared his death –
he knew he must be bold.
The maiden, though, was fast and true,
though it all seemed in vain.
Up her sword went, was jabbed straight through.
A hush: the beast was slain.