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 ayebrows 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