Christmas was coming, and Darcy the dragon
Was thinking what he should do
Go through the forest and into the village
To pick up a gift or two.
For through the forest dear Darcy had friends
Whom he loved very much
He thought it'd be fine, at Christmas-time,
To give each a present or such.
So Christmas, for Darcy, must be presents.
But Darcy'd forgotten the very thing
That makes a dragon unique.
Unlike a horse, a dragon, of course,
Breathes fire whenever he speaks.
Off to town dear Darcy went,
But woe is me, oh lament,
Before a dragon penny was spent
He'd started a tiny fire.
So Darcy is unique. He is not part of the mainstream culture.
This time, when the fire was out,
The villagers charged along
Pursuing Darcy with angry shouts:
'Be off! Away! Be gone! '
Poor Darcy spoke, 'No harm I meant! '
But from the village he was sent.
And woe is me and oh lament,
No presents for his friends!
Darcy is cast out of the village but he doesn't feel stung by discrimination,
He worries only about the lack of gifts.
As Darcy let out with a dragon cry,
He opened his mouth so wide
That the wind and snow blew right down his throat
And put out the fire inside!
When Darcy realized the fire was out,
First a whisper, then a SHOUT!
And a laugh to know he could speak without
Starting another fire!
That's right, Darcy's uniqueness has been extinguished.
Now it was late on a Christmas eve.
He was up, and off with a roar!
He raced to the village and he cried out,
'My fire! 'e un no more! '
From shop to shop he then did go.
In each he made his choice.
Darcy was treated so kindly now,
No need to fear his voice!
The villagers came to the edge of town,
And Darcy waved good-bye.
'Come back again, if ever you can! '
They said, and he said that he'd try