Belly of Paris - Conyers Falchion lyrics

Some old rude song lies under stone Such as the Sockburn Wyrm calls home With teeth made black by poison breath That sent our young men to their d**h The wyrm lay Sockburn town to waste It took our children young and strong It burned our houses to the dirt And left no livestock, crop or field And every trembling hand agreed The Sockburn Wyvern must be slain But who around to do the deed? Who has the valour? Who will bleed? For Sockburn which, although half-dead Must have a savior in its ranks Until John Conyers of the town Went to the church and knelt there down And pledged the Holy Ghost his son He'd see that darksome shade undone With gleaming falchion in his grip And tarnished armour on his back He set out for its savage den And there to take the wyvern's head For every talon, every tooth There is a blade that cuts the root