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. 



A mad Mage with a maid on his eyebrows 

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.