Well it's "Famous This" and "Famous That"
   Though few might ever have
   heard of any of them, still
We use the words because we love them
And not just us but everybody
Walking down the street
There's Plenty Bright and
Double Happiness,
   as if it's not enough
   to just have happiness
But then, perhaps a little extra
wouldn't hurt because
We could,
   if we perhaps might choose
then offer some to others on the street

but all of this.....
   I just can't speak
and still there's more to come

The signs upon the walls and over doors
I see them in the people's eyes and
on the floors
They're written in the skies
As close as air
   Sometimes I think I see them everywhere
and yet
As I stop and stare
I ask,
   or would if I could bear
   to hear an answer
What does all of it mean?

Let us pray in the dying of the day
   in the strange glow that comes
   from somewhere we cannot tell
That these words we throw so causually about
will not turn upon us
or we will then discover that
   if the pen is mighter than the sword
the power in the pen is in the words
and these we do not own
but only borrow for a time.

silence falls a paler shade
it blends unseen into the night
and easy would its passing be
to those who do not watch the fight
as what might be and what might have been
are measured up against
what things were and what things could have
these that leave us tense

I'm a humble little Monkey
I can't help it if I'm cute
I just do my little Monkey things all day
It may be that I'm amazing
I wouldn't really know
If it happens that things just turn out that way
I never asked to be this clever
So sleek and smart and trim
I don't know why fate has blessed me with so much
I can't help it if the ladies
Melt when e'er they hear me speak
And I don't know why they shiver at my touch
I'm a humble little Monkey
Please don't hate me for my looks
Please don't blame me for my mesmerising voice
It's not as if I made myself as amazing as I am
I really didn't ever have a choice.

Before the time of man before his petty squabbles,
When great deeds once were done and giants walked the land,
The mighty of the heavens walked freely where they might,
And the heavens and the earth resounded with their fights.
But power is not always strength nor are the strong the victors,
For strength can never overcome the wisdom of the clever.

A hero once of no reknown, a man of name unknown,
did seek to win a might prize of treasures yet unseen.
He girded up himself to go and no one cheered his way,
he travelled out against the cold and journeyed through the day.
And no one wondered why he did and no one saw his path,
alone as none had been before he faced the winter's storms.
He was a man with youthful face yet laughter he knew not,
there was a kindness in his ways and depth to all he thought.
As he walked out along a trail he heard the erie howl
of wolves as they track down their prey and he went to look about.

A cottage neat was in the woods, nearby a forge it stood,
and hungry wolves were all about the cottage in the wood.
And by the forge a man lay dead, his body torn and burned,
for when the wolves they had attacked upon his forge he fell.
The grizzly scene struck terror in the heart of the young man,
but then he heard a child call to her father as she ran.
Without a thought of self he went quick down from where he stood,
and grabbed a sword from out the forge and ran to aid the child.
The blade it burned deep into his hand but he dare not let it go,
and with the burning blade he fought and he dispatched the foe.
Then taking up the frightened child he took her to her home,
and first he tended to her fears before he did his hands.

The sword which came out of the forge and cooled in the fight
he kept there at his side as he sat waiting out the night.
And when the morning light it came a woman's wails he heard,
and stepping out he saw her kneel there at the dead man's side.
She was the mother of the child returning back from town,
to find the horror of the sight, her world had been torn down.
The hero stayed with her a while and helped her with the child,
and in return she gave the sword with which he'd saved the girl.

And on he went to seek that prize he knew to be so grand,
not realizing all the while he held it in his hand.
Alone once more and still unknown the hero walked the road,
his every action noble and his every thought was good.
And many times he used the blade to fight for what was right,
and never was a finer blade e'er seen in human sight.
One day he stopped a while to drink at an inn along the way,
and a woman saw his still scarred hand and asked if she might sit.
She said she had a tale to tell of a man who had been brave,
and who had found her as a child and who her life did save.
She said she knew that man by sight for his hands were deeply scarred,
by the burning blade which he had used to protect her from the wolves.
Kind sir, she said, why do you search for the thing already found?
You have the Burning Blade of Truth, the treasure most renowned.
My mother often speaks of you in words of glowing praise,
and it would be an honor if you came and lived with us.
At last he knew that she was right and that his search was over,
and so he came to settle down and married the girl's mother.

The Toves came by again last night
To rant and rave at me
But what they asked they had no right
As any fool could see

To rant and rave at me
Its pointless as I could not say
As any fool could see
And if I could I wouldn't anyway

Its pointless as I could not say
I do not talk with Toves
And if I could I wouldn't anyway
As everybody knows

I do not talk with Toves
They always treat me with contempt  
As everybody knows
They just came barging in my tent  

Demanding that I tell them things
But what they asked they had no right
Lording around as if they're kings
The Toves came by again last night

A swan flew across the moon
The image in my mind remains
It touched my heart and made me swoon
I do not know the reason why
But if the swan had not been free
I would not have seen it fly