'Pon a Hill

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