These yellow sands mark his trip,
Seeking Love's grip:
He bows, yearning Her moist lips,
(the wild wind whips.)
Each step he's made with great care,
Not dispersed with despair.
Watch's mouths plead, "How?"
Come, come!", They beg,
A proud old horse with a tired leg.
Sing, "Joker laughs at you!"
Many miles 'way, his might waits;
Of his deeds, legends are told;
Those, his words, he dared the Fates:
Nothing of his can be sold,
Only change from his pocket,
A charming, likened locket.
All gather, again, to ask "How?",
Dry chuckled answer's, "C'mon now."