Brandobaris just stood
holding his sisters stalk of wheat
And the dragon breathed in
And the dragon breathed in
and in and in and in
and then?

The dragon breathed out breath of fire
But Brandobaris was no longer staning there
For he had flipped up in to the air
To Land down on the old reds back
Such an elegant jump what a leap
A somersault with half twist, landing firmly on his feet
An Arm raised up holding high his sisters stalk of wheat
And then he began to Whack
whack wack whack
went the stalk of wheat
all allong the side of the dragons hide
and it knocked him off his feet

Crack Crack Carck
The wheat stalk seemed to sing,
and although it tried the dragon could not fly
as Brandobaris beat his wings

smack smack smack
again and again and again
till the dragon had to run away
for it could not stand the pain

From the cave to the valley all the way down
Whiping the crying dragon in to the town
and all of the Hin there gathered round
for of that dragon they had no more fear
Brandobaris told the Dragon leave and soon
if you ever came back. I'll beat you with my Mothers broom
And unlike my sisters wheat stalk it will put you in a tomb.
The dragon flew away, and all the Hin folk gave a cheer

What of the Dragon treasure? you may all ask
the towns folk had a skeaking task
All Part of the plan now unmasked
It involves a secret door
The Game was so Brandobaris could disstract
while Hin snuck in the cave behind the dragons back
they loaded on treasure took it away in sacks
of what he stole they got back ten times more

So the celerbration party did begin
Lasting for a week or more. You know's us Hin
But in joy there was some Sorrow remembering lost Kin
But they knew they'd all meet again someday
To the hero of the Hour they gave many many grand toasts
They filled him up with pie and beer they were the perfect hosts
before the party was over They had laid away all ghosts
But by then Brandobaris had quietly slipped away

Now along a dusty road bestrides
Mischief twinkling in his kind eyes
Under curly brown hair a face so wise
with a knowing little grin
Allthough not thin not roly-poly,
whistling a tune so Jolly
You could not be melancholy
there goes a very merry Hin