It is there

It is there,
The Hunter, the Enemy,
Hiding up there,
It has stolen thousands of sheep,
Wool to fan it's flame bright,
Trashed towns and villages all the same,
No one is safe from its ravages.
The castle, they cannot help,
They have promised so much,
To the one who can.
That one will be me.
The Princess fair,
Stolen from the tower like a feather in the wind,
To be devoured by the Beast.
Beast of flame and flight.
Horrid Thing, you will soon meet your death.
And if you have devowred the Princess fair,
Then you will die a thousand deaths.
And if she remains alive,
Then you will still die, but only a hundred deaths,
For I will be merciful.
Here, the cave,
Where It, the Beast, the horrid Thing,
Where It lays in wait.
A beastly roar,
From the cave.
Charge forth, go to Battle,
Shield raised to stop the flame,
The flame that has clamed so many lives,
But this, there is more,
The shield melts.
The wayward knight melts too.
And the Dragon sighs and mutters to himself,
As he begins to clean up the molten mess,
Yet another one,
When will they learn?
I am not the Thing they seek,
Two caves over,
And another one down.

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