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In olden days, in starry skies,
when dragons did abound,
the crafty elves were quite unnerved
to be left on the ground.

They saw the dragons flying high,
soaring through the crystal blue,
and knew that if they had such wings
that they could do this too.

But wings they certainly had not,
not even just a feather.
They knew they could not fly that way,
for want of winged measure.

Those crafty elves caught those beasts,
those lizards of the skies,
to be their steeds, this regal breed
much thinking it was wise.

They met their match within this catch:
the dragons were too proud.
To let those elves atop their backs
while zipping through each cloud.

Some say they did each other in,
holding to their silly pride.
Some fury met the wind that day,
And much more than ego died!

Maryland is home to a very old den of dragons and elves who have learned to live in peace in the womb of Mother Gaia. I, Jayson, King of Alarac, have become the caretaker to all who travel the underworld. I only ask of all that follow my code of the Elf this one thing: Keep it Funky!