A Dulcimer's Fancy

Starshot, halo-bound

So laying me out

You got flaxen wings of hayseed

And something under your arm



And may I please touch

Your fancy tattered cloak

Were its holes divinely fabricated

Or were they eaten out by a moth?



...Eaten out by a moth? (Repeat)



What's that beautiful instrument that you bear?

You did not design that by chance

You were touching a dulcimer's fancy



A Dulcimer's Fancy (Touching a dulcimer's fancy)