The Times of Yore
Beyond our hulking mountains
grim, beyond the most distant shore,
Long forgotten in time’s wind lye the land of yore.
Yore with heaping mounds of treasure
in thy dragons lair,
Where the probing eyes of strong young men
wander to maidens fair,
Yore where the summer sun still dances, of castles
and bards and song.
Yore where the roaming wild horse
prances, with monstrous battles long,
Where elves are merry
and dance and laugh, where dwarves still hammer stone,
Where wizards live mystiqued in power, where spirits
writhe and moan.
Of the many tales of times
of yore I will tell the one,
It’s a story of magic
and courage and wisdom and before this tale is done
Though shalt learn the pain of loss
and learn the joy of love.
Though shalt feel the Dark One’s deathly breath
seeping from above,
Feel an aging kings deep pain
, learn a lover’s bliss,
But before ye
read this story just remember this!
Beyond our hulking mountains grim, beyond the most distant
forgotten in time’s wind lye the lands of yore. . . . .