The Travelling Tragition Lyrics - Marc Bolan

Shadow cloak swift as a swallow, 

Pantaloon down in the hollow, 

Dancing, his voice like a cloud 

In the death of my night. 

Awful eyes, black Persian beggar, 

Harlequinesque, hair plaited heather, 

Stepping so lightly, 

A sprite in the house of my sight. 

0 m'dear, travelling Tragition, 

It's sky clear, you're a gift from the fair folk. 

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