The toad road licked my wheels like a sabre
Winds of the marsh lightly blew
Stone jars stacked with stars on her shoulders
Hunters of pity she slew.

Chariots of silk she rode
Stallions of gold she owned.

Hunteth the realm for a God
Who could teach him the craft of decanting
The glassy entrails of a frog.

The Bard of my birth with his ballet
Walked the wild worlds in the chase
For the black chested canary
Who as a moose can sing bass.