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// Mahatma: The Great Dragon Matriarch 
// Story: Zecora's Big Book of Zebra Legends 
// by swicked 
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All dragonkin are scaly friend of zebra near and far
Because, you see, through destiny, we made each what we are
No paltry tale of stripe or scale could tell all where we've been
But still I know of one tale, though, that first made us two kin

So full of fright was the first night, before stars took their place
When moon was new, or darker hue, and light graced not its face
The zebra shivered in the cold that often took them, young and old.
And monsters nigh, on ground or sky, would rarely ever let them lie.

Mahatma was a dragon. The first one ever born
She towered over mountains, her wings created storm

She looked upon the zebra, how they suffered in the black
And for her kind and glor-ous heart she would give what they lack
The sun would bake the land back then, the dry and heat was shrill
And so Mahatma rose her neck and bit of it her fill

The fire burned within her mouth, it raged across her tongue
Then, reaching down, dropped some to ground, and shared with everyone

The fire never fully left; burns in her children still
Nor did the fire she dropped snuff, kept as traditions will
Again, there's many more tales left, of dragons and zebra
So praise her still, may one and all, our matron Mahatma!