Pour out some drinks and pass me a flagon.

I’ll tell you the tale of the Garlic-Breathed Dragon

Who lived in the terrible Castle MacScallion

On the bottom floor.

 

His cough could cause famine or maybe disease,

And eyeballs dried up every time he would sneeze.

His horrible breath could be smelled overseas,

And plagues were caused by his snore.

 

With durian spines and spoiled-milk eyes,

Sulfurous teeth that were monstrous in size,

To face such a beast would be brave but not wise.

One mustn’t overthink.

 

Five miles south of MacScallion, by crow

Lay the small town of Lemonstead, on a plateau.

Visitors were scarce and business was slow

Because of the horrible stink.

 

The Lemonstead residents all held their noses.

The odor infesting their town was atrocious.

A smell this bad could cause neurosis.

But they would not succumb.

 

They sent out a plea to the towns of the land,

Delivered by pigeon, their last-resort plan.

In hopes that some kind knight would just understand

And save them from the scum.

 

Who would attack the dragon’s lair?

Who would stagger through stagnant air?

Who would risk their nostril hair?

Who could take a hint?

 

There’s only one man with such a strong nose,

Only one man who’d faced stenches as foes,

Only one man who’s brave head to toes:

The great Sir Pepper of Mint!

 

Sir Pepper of Mint was a noble knight.

His Coat of Arms was red and white.

He aimed to cure the castle’s blight

With his lance, the Palate Cleanser.

 

As if to answer Lemonstead’s prayer,

He rode into the village square.

He said to face both foul and fair,

“I’ve come to seek adventure.”

 

“I may be able to soothe your fears.

I’ve been hunting down smelly-breathed monsters for years,

But this halitosis outclasses its peers.

This is the worst I’ve seen.”

 

Still, as he left to storm MacScallion,

Every street urchin and tatterdemalion

Cheered for him and his loyal stallion:

The good horse Wintergreen.

 

Sir Pepper passed through Skunk’s Tail Creek,

Sauerkraut Swamp, and the Cave of Reek,

And though the smells would have made other men weak,

The Knight of Mint struggled on.

 

Eventually, after these realms of despair,

He made it to the dragon’s lair.

MacScallion loomed as a nasal nightmare.

Sir Pepper’s lance was drawn.

 

He tiptoed through the quiet halls

Where kings of old had held great balls

But now mold crept upon the walls.

When Pepper reached the cellar.

 

The sleeping dragon woke and then,

That Scourge of Schnozz, that Scourge of Men,

He breathed his garlic breath again.

The stench was something stellar.

 

Sir Pepper dodged the noxious blast

And gripped his lance with strength, steadfast

He said “I’ll slay this beast at last.

I want this dragon’s head.”

 

Palate Cleanser’s mark was true.

It reached the dragon’s snout and through

It went til’ Pepper surely knew

The fetid fiend was dead.

 

Then Lemonstead smelled of basil and pine,

Chocolate-chip cookies and strawberry wine,

Rose and ginger and clementine,

And everything in-between.

 

Sir Pepper rode off, nose unscathed.

With dragon killed and village saved.

And as he left, the townspeople waved

For him and Wintergreen.