'Pon a hill a green bird sat
Her owlets in a green felt hat
Her fortune was a wish.
Amba**ador a heron blue
Rode on the dawn with kegs of dew
He said his tales were true
A ragged youth with eyes of gla**
Was seen dancing upon the gra**
His words were winged and wise
His shaven skull he etched with ease
The silent scriptures of the trees
His prophecies were You.