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Editor's Note: This story is not really Sci-Fi/Fantasy (as expressed by the O marking), but is included because I felt like it, and my word is supreme! Hahahahah chuckle hehehehe.

The Tale of St. George

"Do not worry, O ye people,"
Cried St. George, valian and brave,
"I shall rid ye of the dragon,
"And the city, I shall save."

The crowd went wild as George rode off,
Rode off towards the Dragon's Lair.
He rode up to the mouth of the cave,
Reined his horse, and hesitated there.

"Now if I slay this mighty beast,"
St. George thought aloud,
"I'll save the city, have treasure,too;
"I'll be a hero, famous and proud."

Now, it was known across the land,
By every serf, and every lord,
The dragon fought so mightily well,
Because she guarded a treasure hoard.

Knight after knight rode to the Lair of the Dragon,
Drew their swords, said a prayer, and walked right in.
They fought and fought in that horrid dark cave, And, as far as I know, didn't come out again.

Finally, St. George dismounted,
And told himself that he was better than the rest.
He drew his sword and entered the cave,
Hoping, praying that he could be the best.

The dragon heard his footsteps fall,
And she shivered greatly with fear.
"Please don't come in," she thought.
"Please, please, don't come in here."

"I never did a thing to you,
"Please just let me be, Sir Knight.
"I am wounded and I am weak,
"And I do not think that I can fight."

But then she thought of the treasure she guarded,
And there was a spark of fire in her eye.
She thought of the treasure, and she knew,
She would not, whe could not let herself die.

"Prepare to die, foul beast!" Cried St. George,
As the dragon rose to a terrifying height.
They put teeth to armor, iron to scales,
And fought a long and bloody fight.

In the end, George's sword struck home.
With a blood-curling scream, Dragon fell to the ground.
George retrieved his sword, pushed the carcass away,
And what do you think he found?

The very treasure so many craved;
The treasure the dragon just had to keep;
The treasure he just fought so hard for:
A baby dragon, fast asleep.

He put the cold steel to the baby's neck,
And prepared to do as he promised the town:
Rid them of dragons, now and forever.
But, he just couldn't bring the sword down.

Instead, he picked the creature up,
And as he carried it out, it never once stirred.
He put it in his horse's saddlebag,
Mounted and rode off, all without saying a word.

He set the baby dragon free,
But claimed that the last of the dragons, he had slayed.
Not knowing his secret, the town called him a hero.
The people gave him medals, and even a parade.

The last of the dragons still lives on,
Near the city in a cave.
And there he'll live forever more,
Thanks to St. George, the valiant and brave.

Originally written in February 1999.