The Travelling Tragition

Shadow cloak swift as a swallow,

Pantaloon down in the hollow,

Dancing, his voice like a cloud

In the death of my night.

Awful eyes, black Persian beggar,

Harlequinesque, hair plaited heather,

Stepping so lightly,

A sprite in the house of my sight.

Oh m'dear, travelling Tragition,

It's sky clear, you're a gift from the fair folk.