This tune written for the instrumental part of the Wreck of the Edmund Fitgerald. I may later add a mp3 but here is the completed work for now.

Urugall the Destroyer

A tale is told from Medarhos on down
Of a creature they called a great dragon.
The wyrm, it is said, fills your spirit with dread
When its eyes turn their gaze upon thee.

With word of the drake, many lives it did take
In the Ancient Wood burning it empty.
The good elves it hued & their numbers it slew
When the gales of its wings came upon them.

Neldorea laid waste, the drake did in great haste
make the homeland his lair of plenty.
Flushed with the chance, many chose to dance
only death awaited with peril.

From legend of old, came a tale it was told
of a weapon to lay low the dragon.
Longinus's Lance gave the Order its chance
so Gnaeus sallied forth to meet it.

Of the men who were sent, all their lives were spent
as the great wyrm did choose to comsume them.
In twenty-eight thirty-nine Urugall did find
the kinfolk of the men who had fought it.

Seen through a thick haze Akasia was ablaze
as the dragon destroyed all around it.
So . . out went a call through farmland and Hall
to fend off the creatures great hatred.

Charles of the Shore with Roger of the Moors
answered the summons of valor.
The Captains did know their life blood would flow
on the grouds of the States to defend her.

An ambush they lay, their lives they did weigh
as the creature came down upon them.
In a small defile Prince Charles with a smile
was heard to say 'men, good to know ya'

Rocks, arrows and spears flew from men filled with fear
the dragon surprised and wounded.
It took to flight its eyes filled with spite
as it turned to flee back before them.

A great mound they did raise for the memory does fade
of the fallen soldiers amongst them.
4000 no more turned for home and the shore
of the Gulf of Thyestes waiting.

Urugall lives on in a faraway land yet we
dare not loose track of the danger.
One day could we spy the great wrym in the sky
seeking vengeance upon us so dearly.

Who will answer the horn when memories are worn
when the need is so great before us.
So . . in sonat and song we wish to prolong
the day we forget our duty.

A tale is told from Medarhos on down
Of a creature they called a great dragon.
The wyrm, it is said, fills your spirit with dread
When its eyes turn their gaze upon thee.