I saw four fine creatures,
travelling in company,

Their tracks were dark,
their trail very black,

The bird that floats in the air,
swoops less swiftly than their leader,

Drudgery was it for the fellow,
who taught all four of them their ways,

On their ceaseless visits,
to the vessel of gold.

The four fine creatures are fingers with are holding a pen, which leaves the black tracks.  It was drudgery to learn to write, and he must dip his pen in the inkwell often.

Posted by Libby on 2004-12-30 06:44:59