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lirik lagu the hobbitons - the man in the moon came down too soon

the man in the moon had silver shoon
and his beard was of silver thread
with opals crowned and pearls all bound
about his girdlestead
in his mantle grey he walked one day
across a shining floor
and with crystal key in secrecy
he opened an ivory door

on a filigree stair of glimmering hair
then lightly down he went
and merry was he at last to be free
on a mad adventure bent
in diamonds white he had lost delight
he was tired of his minaret
of tall moonstone that towered alone
on a lunar mountain set

hе would dare any peril for ruby and beryl
to broidеr his pale attire
for new diadems of l~strous gems
emerald and sapphire
he was lonely too with nothing to do
but stare at the world of gold
and hark to the hum that would distantly come
as gaily round it rolled
at plenilune in his argent moon
in his heart he longed for fire
not the limpid lights of wan selenites
for red was his desire
for crimson and rose and ember~glows
for flame with burning tongue
for the scarlet skies in a swift sunrise
when a stormy day is young

he’d have seas of blues, and the living hues
of forest green and fen
and he yearned for the mirth of the populous earth
and the sanguine blood of men
he coveted song, and laughter long
and viands hot, and wine
eating pearly cakes of light snowflakes
and drinking thin moonshine

he twinkled his feet, as he thought of the meat
of pepper, and punch galore
and he tripped unaware on his slanting stair
and like a meteor
a star in flight, ere yule one night
fl!ckering down he fell
from his laddery path to a foaming bath
in the windy bay of bel
he began to think, lest he melt and sink
what in the moon to do
when a fisherman’s boat found him far afloat
to the amazement of the crew
caught in their net all shimmering wet
in a phosphorescent sheen
of bluey whites and opal lights
and a delicate liquid green

against his wish with the morning fish
they packed him back to land
“you had best get a bed in an inn,” they said
“the town is near at hand”
only the knell of one slow bell
high in the seaward tower
announced the news of his moonsick cruise
at that unseemly hour

not a hearth was laid, not a breakfast made
and dawn was cold and damp
there were ashes for fire, and grass for the mire
for the sun a smoking lamp
in a dim back~street not a man did he meet
no voice was raised in song
there were snores instead, for all folk were abed
and still would slumber long
he knocked as he passed on doors locked fast
and called and cried in vain
till he came to an inn that had light within
and he tapped at a window~pane
a drowsy cook gave a surly look
and “what do you want?” said he
“i want fire and gold and songs of old
and red wine flowing free!”

“you won’t get them here,” said the cook with a leer
“but you may come inside
silver i lack and silk to my back
maybe i’ll let you bide”
a silver gift the latch to lift
a pearl to pass the door
for a seat by the cook in the ingle~nook
it cost him twenty more

for hunger or drouth naught passed his mouth
till he gave both crown and cloak
and all that he got, in an earthen pot
broken and black with smoke
was porridge cold and two days old
to eat with a wooden spoon
for puddings of yule with plums, poor fool
he arrived so much too soon

an unwary guest on a lunatic quest
from the mountains of the moon

- lirik lagu the hobbitons

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