marc bolan - the travelling tragition lyrics
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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.
0 m’dear, travelling tragition,
it’s sky clear, you’re a gift from the fair folk.
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