Night terror

Upon the hill sits a flaming dragon,
its eyes awhirl at sight of running men
fleeing the blaze that's tearing through the fen.

By the rough road we see a broken wagon
and swine no longer held inside a pen;
upon the hill sits a flaming dragon.

Beneath the wall now lies a broken flagon,
repaired but once. Now it's in shards again;
the world will be restored, we know not when:
upon the hill sits a flaming dragon.