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The MedialAnnum Drakas Carol
St. Drakas
St. Drakas, also known as the Drakonian Muse, is the patron saint of this webpage. His Carol is below.
The Medialannum Drakas Carol
Twas the night before Medialannum Drakas, when
all through the Prussian Castle
Not a creature was howling, not even an owlbear.
The Cassocks were hung by the Turret (oh my) with care,
in hopes that St.Drakas soon would be there.
The hunters were nestled all snug in their beds
while visions of dead owlbears danced in their heads
And Camposela in her gown and I in my Armor
had just settled down to work like a Farmer
When out on the dais there arose such a clatter
I sprang from the armory to see what was the matter
A chariot and an oxen crossed the skies
and gave lustre to the ground as it flies
when, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but 9 baby goats and my warriors most dear
With a little old driver, so lively and eating cake,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Drake.
More rapid than eagles, his courses they came,
and he whistled and shouted and called us by name:
Now Gregr, Now Johnson
Now Half Orc Poet too
On Drakos, On Richo
On Nizziadorai the blue
To the forest
To the grove
To Havana as well
Fight your way
Fight your way
Fight to the bell
o up to the castle-top the courses they flew,
with the chariot full of barets, and St. Drakas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard with a scare
the howling and durring of each little owlbear
As I drew in my head and was turning around,
down the buttress St. Drakas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in barets, from his head to his foot,
and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of barets he had flung on his back,
and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes they were dreary; how cold and dead;
his cheeks were like ice: but at least well fed
He had a Sharpe face and long fangs to be sure
and a head of long hair that seemed a lot like fur
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
soon gave me to know I had nothing yet to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
and filled all the cassocks, then turned with a jerk.
He sprang to his chariot; to his team he glared
and away they flew not a word to be shared
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight,
You've survived another Drakas now Long Live the Night!
*Beret must always be spelled baret.
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