The things of merciful and clement wazir must endure.
How surely one can tell the expert from the amateur.
Dear hand,
deft hand, clever and facile extremity,
One companion to me from my birth.
Sweet hand,
swift hand, spinner of fable and fantasy,
Faithful friend of my art,
would they rend us apart,
Leaving no finger or fist there,
But just the hint
of a wrist there.
Were then my spirit it with my mercurial charm,
Am I fated to sit with an elbow and arm,
And no digits to top them off,
If they lopped them off?
Well,
certainly as ever proved the man to share that ear.
Well said,
but unsaid well enough if we know our was dear.
How could I plead with you,
how could I pray to you,
How could I deceive with you,
what could I say to you?
This is becoming a bore.
Like a joke, but no taste.
Like a swirling sway.
Like a rattle, so soft.
Oh,
I'd like to hear a little more.
When you tell a story,
amorous or gory,
You can tell it best if you just take you late.
Suppose the mighty Sinbad meets a djinn who's been bad,
They can guess the rest if you just take you late.
A tongue is a tongue,
and a lung is a lung,
And a tail they can shout or sing,
Without the gesture nothing.
Should Scheherazade undulate her body,
That can be expressed if you just,
Can be assessed if you just,
Should be unquest if you just take you late.
If I tell you I was walking by the sea and found a genie in a bottle,
That's right.
Quite.
Practically everyone has seen a genie,
self-admitted,
trottle in a bottle.
Right.
But if I say the bottle was so teeny,
So teeny,
and so was the genie, so was the genie,
Until with trembling hand I pulled the cork,
and filled the jug and covered up my eyes.
And the smoke began to curl,
and the smoke began to swirl,
And it swirled and it curled and it curled
and it swirled as high out it did rise,
Until it was so high,
so high, and so was the genie, so was the genie,
Then two great palms
reached down,
and lifted me up,
up,
up,
up,
up,
up into the sky,
Into the sky,
and we did fly, the genie and I, we did sail,
we did sail, we did sail,
we did sail.
Is this a tale?
This is a tale.
Are you convinced?
We are convinced.
For the facile finger,
listeners will linger,
They will be impressed if you jest,
applaud with zest if you jest,
If it's a question of a story,
gory,
sinbad,
in bed,
But smoke genie arms fly sky high,
I state,
reiterate,
this is good man.
II