Caracole

This is the cow with the crumpled horn
And the moon in the sky
And the bar set high
In the sky that stretched from sea to land
From the crackly rocks
To the golden sand.

I made me a menhir with my pack
And danced on the waves,
And the waves waved back
To comfort the maiden all forlorn
Who scattered her tears
In the welcome dawn.

So the moon blew low
And the cow leapt high
To dance with the maid in the moonlit sky.
The pipes of my music made no sound
But the moon was flat
And the earth was round.