The Stallion, Pt. 4 - Ween

Look there up above the hill, over the mountain

With lights from its holy lips and blood from the stallion

We talk of ancient scripts, its soul from the master

Sent to do no harm, far from — from disaster

I raised my hand up high, Boognish was looking onward

Said thy words shall now be done even move forward

Gazing at his spongy eye, I gasp in all it’s glory

It’s tongue was made by putting forth

the end of the story