The Travelling Tragition
Marc Bolan
Shadow cloak swift as a swallow
Pantaloon down in the hollow
Dancing, his voice like a cloud
In the death of my night
Awful eyes, black Persian beggar
Harlequinesque, hair plaited heather
Stepping so lightly
A sprite in the house of my sight
0 m'dear, travelling Tragition
It's sky clear, you're a gift from the fair folk