at the end of the world country fair,
Forests, mountains and valleys.
And the wizard who lives in a tower there,
Sitting spinning tales
Of gossamer belt lighter than air,
burst there on scented storms–
From the charming, enchanting glow of the East,
Of haunted and gloomy mansions
Fair old stories of princes and ladies
and genies and giants grim,
And the sparkling dragon’s lair,
Blow over the edge of the great world.
And he weaves it into a web of dreams
When the stars start to shine,
and lays them loose under their faded luster
On the silent waves of sleep,
And quickly float on those wonderful streams
And in the dreams of people they infiltrate.
And all the stories we read today,
Strange tales, old and new
Get out of this country far away
where he sits all day,
He spins in this colorful web as he pleases,
Spinning for you and me.