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Tattered clothes all fluttering Worn out voice still muttering Ragged John comes knocking At all the doors in town. And when a door swings open Then you can hear the hope in The thin, cracked voice that wonders If you've seen his unicorn. And we all know John is crazy And his mind has gone all hazy And the only thing we really wish Is that he just would let us be. But John, he keeps on questing And the poor man knows no resting For there's something hurt within him. And the pain won't go away. I've heard when John was younger He was taken with a hunger To see the white-horned wonder They call the unicorn. But when that star-horned, moon-maned dancer Finally called, John could not answer; Fear held him like a prisoner, And he watched it walk away. So now empty-eyed John hobbles Across the village cobbles, And the only fear he feels is It will never come again. Oh, when I watch old Ragged John Go staggering by and wandering on, I know there's nothing sadder Than a heart that feared its dreams. If a unicorn should call to you Some moon-mad night all washed in dew, Then here's the prayer to whisper: Grant me the heart to follow. Beatrice Farrington |
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