The Laidly Wyrm came to Brighton Wood
To celebrate her hatchling day
Eleven centuries old she was
On this the twelfth of may

She’d left her lofty mountain home
Forsook her prodigious hoard
Unfurled her colossal beating wings
As into the air she soared

She’d traveled far o’er countless leagues
Through the corridors of the sky
To see the vivid greens and golds
Once more ere she did die

For aged she was and well matured
and much somnolent waxed
The fires within her now grew cold
And her mighty strength was taxed

For untold years did heroes contest
The bane of many a foe
They’d sought her out to prove their worth
And she’d brought them all to woe

But her battles were now at an end
She felt her ruin draw nigh
She longed to sleep upon the grass
Under the sun filled sky

She rested there in Brighton Wood
Under its sunny beams
And slept the sleep we all must face
The sleep of endless dreams