Remember then, when you decide
to brave the wilderness:
in Gobi does despair reside;
in that it’s generous.’
Although his dear old mommy stressed
how vicious Gobi was,
this Mongol boy was so obsessed,
he vowed to get across.
And so, came round that fateful night,
the Devil’s clutches broad;
the youngster gathered all his might,
and took his daddy’s sword.
He walked and walked and walked and walked
and walked and walked and – stopped!
At once he knew he had been mocked:
it’s just a rat that hopped.
The wretched wind swept o’er the peaks
in tunes monotonous;
The truth bore down his face in streaks –
he’s not autonomous.
But just as sorrow harboured he,
a shadow lobed and large
soon manifested shockingly
upon him like a barge.
At once he shifted, just in time
to counter its assault;
for in the wake of feeting rime
came thence a lightning bolt.
Immediately he swooped down on
the foul ferocious beast;
he brought his worthy sword upon
what then became deceased.
Well, you can well imagine how
triumphant he’s received;
besides a hog they’ve killed a sow
not once more have they grieved.
