When you reach the crossing of wane and wax
And turn left on the right hand road
A deaf man will be hearing birdsong
And a mute humming sweet song low
Their treble clefts will fill the air
And the sea witch cries of things she lacks
And monkeys swoop from gas lamps above
With treasure on their hairy backs
Ode to open season in the sea
Where mermaids swim to Galilee
Swift red orphans paint the gravel sidesteps
And tornados rip the sky
Shake the Earth like Nephalim
Sing, ye sweet Cherubim
Find tigers in your blind spots
From Bengal rugs and oriental pots
You will find at the market way
Fall deep in love with the sky above
And only whisper during May
The river doves are ripe as rush
The fly fish are all feathered
Come ye faithful denizens to
Discuss the imminent weather
Blithe as nail and smooth as tooth
The Cherokees sear the horse’s tether
And Poseidon’s monsters rush out like flu
To trample all of swan footed you
There is no promise in a word
But crystal chimes and charcoal blacks
So tell the sea witch what you want
When you reach the crossing of wane and wax