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.
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