A tale of dawn where
my genius at play for her beads
if thunder hie will quicken quinine
why Doeville surely nigh and on route yon
that bare a drove her handkerchief spar
in field with hills to make her rich still clad in negligee
and between her steps arose Carthage in antiquity
a lore of ages to unfold Spain today
with a guitar strumming this spicy song of quest so inane