Last night I’d slain yet another dragon.
Well, at least that’s how the story’s told.
It took some time to muster up courage -
a few mugs of ale before I grew bold.
I recall stumbling through a great forest,
with tankard filled and sword in hand,
slashing a path through the thick foliage,
stopping to drink and survey the land.
Up the way, I heard laughter and music,
the likes of which were strange to the ear.
I forged ahead with great trepidation.
If not a dragon, then I’d nothing to fear.
I happened upon a troop in the clearing,
frolicking naked, quaffing magical brew.
They beckoned that I come join them.
So, I disrobed and began frolicking too.
Enthralled by these nymphs and faeries,
I danced and partied long into the night.
They opened new doors to pleasure:
ways to satisfy, sure ways to delight.
From a deep sleep I awoke in the forest,
no sign of revelers, no sign of my clothes.
Just had my sword and an empty tankard.
What truly happened, God only knows.