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by wiggly jones, "the little hippie boy"

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under this undulating sky let us shelter beneath this tree i will tell you a story if you tell one to me up a lazy river across a placid lake sir lancelot went out one day his kingdom for to take the further shore was empty no castles did he spy but he resolved to conquer or in the process die he rode across a sandy waste and on an ashy plain he had never come this way before nor ever would again lancelot rode on and on his horse beneath him died he shook his fist up at the sky and in despair he cried how can i earn glory if no monsters show their face no villains ride to meet me and dragons leave no trace? under an undulating sky the hero turned to dust but other heroes, undaunted ride on, because they must next