Two old sailors stared across the knots of dryish land
One could not even see a single grain of sand,
They thought it odd the problem was so very hard to solve.
Do you suppose one sailor said, “that mops had been involved”.

As we float here two miles high
Around us flocks of birds fly by
Without a density of less than one
We're well aware there'd be no fun
We like the view and have no wish
To plung and fall amoungst the fish
So please dear Lord for God's sake try
To keep us floating two miles high

What I wouldn't do for you
I would not tame a single shrew
Not one nor two it would not do
To crush these things inside of you

Good Mistress Accost,
Let us be loss,
In the woods by a sea on the moon.

Lets us board and assail,
Through sunshine or hail,
In the woods by a sea on the moon.

Let the music aspire,
As food for our fire,
In the woods by a sea in the night.

Oh Mistress mine,
We will kiss by a pine,
In the woods by a sea on the moon.

Dear reader know that when I sat to jot
A verse of that I knew not what.
I did not wish to write a rhyme
That possibly could waste your time.
So down I sat for half a year
and did not come so very near.
So spent a decade crossing out
Word after word which came to nowt.
The years went by and I grew old
And still the tale had not been told.
Now I feel there is no time
To sit around and write your rhyme.

The patagone is twice the size of that which I had thought was wise.
She feeds on anything but cake just simply trail it in your wake.
But what she chiefly seeks to eat it is the cold blood in your feet.

Thank you for ten things you gave to me,
Those things I cannot could not would not see.
Maybe one or maybe ten,
It didn’t seem to matter then.
These things they winded, binded to my soul,
And now I cannot seem to let them go.
So everything that now I do,
Is coloured by a dab of you.