Burnt Pages Of Time

 There once was a town on a far away hill, 

Upon the crest lived a village king, Thrill. 

He and his daughter, a book-lover was she, 

Did shower the town in prosper and glee. 

By night and by treasure they continued their way, 

Till the vile demon Few came and stole it that day. 

A demon of fire, a face of pure white, 

With a breath and a hollar, the town was alight. 

And once the fire died down, left from burnt hash: 

Was a poor elf book-lover, And a crown in dusty ash.