A dragon will eat a man suit and shoes
A crombie and docs jut out of his pooh
Eats him whole, ears and hat, no bits
Leftover, then does a great big shit
With a stetson sat on top
When he eats curly haired people it looks like he’s shat a mop
The mound of gold he sits atop
Pales to the Everests of plop
He deposits then flies off
The flies are absolutely made up.
The worst job in the fiery pit
Sifting daily through the dragonshit:
From a cow he ate a set of tits
From sating on a blonde big red lips
From eating Knights regularly all manner of defensive armours, and an arm
A paramour’s hennin, the farm
Dog’s collar, six silver dollars, yarn
From Theseus’ quest, a yard of tartan
A Tartarian doctor’s cautery, an orb which blooded performs sorceries, a sourceless set of silver cutlery from the scullery of the Butlers of Ormonde
A shield, two lances, five swords, champion vegetables he had champed down upon, a gourd, all manner of twine and chord
More metal bits than an apprentice’s penny brings in, numbering many
Plenty of plate parts, a breastplate torn apart by fangs
A helmet whence ‘xotic feathers sprang
Gargantuan bones belonging to the mythic Avanc
The gilded wanking claw of Shenouda the Archimandrite
The oily stonebound books of the One Whose Name Cannot Be Writ
All this, and more, in a single dragon’s shit
The sifter literally sick of this shit is dying for the end of his shift.
Alchemisland 
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