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.