Warmics

Upon the hill, on guard, alone The griffin crouches on a stone. He keeps his vigil, nights and days And not a thing escapes his gaze. I climb on up to see his glories, Bring him treats, and tell him stories. He is polite, accepts my praise, But keeps his watch, on guard, he stays. At night you look up and can see His glowing eyes that ceaselessly Go back and forth across our town In search of things that call him down. No thief dares skulk among our homes For endlessly the griffin roams And checks our doors and barns and locks Then goes back to his couch of rocks. We feast, or revel, he looks on And guards until all guests are gone. We ea