OF HILLS AND YAKS
I've heard tales and legends
Of New Zealand's beauty.
I, the poet, the musician,
Have sold records there.
I know they filmed an
Acclaimed film upon its
Crooked peaks, green hills.
Or maybe there were three?
Surrounded by majesty,
Blue depths and rocky crags,
Slopes sloping into lakes,
Stands the Tibetan Yak.
How he arrived from Tibet
We'll never know. A lonely,
Pensive wanderer -- But how
Can he swim with those hooves?
He didn't take the bus,
For damn sure.
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