The Dragon's Lair Poem by Mark Heathcote

Mountain paths are winding road
the red crest of a twisting dragon
heaped on the earth about to unfold
a bolt of fire unleashing sharp talons
where could it lead? What cavernous jaws
let's make camp in its mouth while it snores
it has plaque deposits said to be gold.
That's been here since the dinosaurs
we must remove this from a dark abode
and equally, all share - no short straws.

Bring it into the light. Look, let's not-
squabble or fight, there's enough for all
and let's not care for murder or plot
this bullion is ours by the bucketful.
Grab your shovels, lads and bend your back
let's move this damn earth in sack-cloth-rags
and should some old dragon steal it all
we'll see to it he's gnawed by giant rats
and that his head rolls on the seafloor
we're not here to make richer these aristocrats.