ANGELO BRANDUARDI   "fables and fantasies"      Mustapha's Tale      Mustapha the silver bit and stoked up the fire   Began his tale once in the blue hills so tired   I found a cave to shelter in, the entrance was low   If its fable or fantasy the desert wind knows   If its fable or fantasy the desert wind blows      Suddenly awakened with a black chill of terror   I saw twelve hooded figures in graveyard apparel   Who shuffling towards me where I crouched by the wall   Said Mustapha you're now one of us, we have need of one more   Yes joining hands they left a place and called for one more      Thirteen we must be tonight for conjure and scheme   My limbs gave me to them I prayed that I dreamed   My hands held fast by other hands the circle was closed   If its fable or fantasy the desert wind knows   If its fable or fantasy the desert wind blows      A pentagram of Caldea was drawn in vermillion   Where five lamps were a'flickering to foul incantation   When all at once sulphurous vapours did rise   A cloud, a shape, a form, a face with tapers for eyes      Never was a gargoyle more hideously moulded   Or a voice heard more of snake fit   Which that awful head issued   No greater riches offered for a small sacrifice   A name in blood, a promised soul, the unholy price   A name in blood, a promised soul, the unholy price      It offered me all women both living and dead   Palaces and flower a crown for my head   But from somewhere deep inside me came the strength to scream no   If its fable or fantasy the desert wind knows   If its fable or fantasy the desert wind blows      Mustapha the silver bit and stoked up the fire   Began his tale once in the blue hills so tired   I found a cave to shelter in and the rest I've disclosed   Fable or fantasy the desert wind blows   Fable or fantasy the desert wind blows   If its fable or fantasy the desert wind blows