The village people gathered in the square,

and heard the crier tell them in despair:

"The King is dying now, his race is run -

but as you're all aware - he has no son!"

Well, soon the word had sped throughout the town,

a quest was there, for one to wear the crown:

To best the dragon in his mountain cave,

would prove him worthy, faithful, true and brave!

The shaking of the heads was sad to see,

as one by one the young men said: "not me..."

but one young peasant nodded, pressed his luck,

the tailor's youngest son - the rascal Puck.

As Puck strode off, the townsfolk cheered him on,

then dug his grave as soon as he was gone,

they carved Puck's epitaph upon a post:

"We sent a boy, got back a piece of toast!"

Now, dragons were a match for mortal man,

but Puck knew this and had a cunning plan,

he couldn't beat the fire in dragon's throat,

so sent the scaly man-eater a note.

On Whitsunday, he strode into the court,

displayed the dragon's treasure he had brought,

acclaimed by all the bravest they had known,

Puck took his rightful place upon the throne.

So, good King Puck ruled with a loving hand,

and everyone was happy in the land,

the dragon? He was happy too, you see,

and living in the castle, secretly!

Puck's note had said that soon times would be tough,

as men invented gunpowder and stuff,

no dragon would be safe, they'd all be tracked,

far better if they signed a secret pact.

The dragon knew that Puck was quite a sage,

he needed somewhere safe for his old age,

they both got what they wanted, all was sweet,

and now the castle's warmed by central heat!

More of my FUNNY POEMS