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.