Between the rotting alleyways of an old time realm
a silent vagrant wonders through them

A quiet man with too much to say
too scared to reveal himself to the light of day

At dusk he creeps and ponders with poise
whilst he thinks he blacks out all noise

He thinks about death he thinks about life
his mind is as sharp as a farmer's scythe

Often he'll go and sit down to drink
sipping his ale, when he no longer thinks

Wonder and drink is all that he does
forever living in a world that never was

Reality and fantasy are true to him well
a storyteller he is, couldn't you tell?

Adventure and suspense is something he admires
young and old he easily inspires

Riding down the paths in his mind
a vivid imagination is what we will find

May be a wonderer, may be a tramp
but this man I tell you is as bright as a lamp

Telling his stories and drinking his ale
a man who told of a wondrous tale.