There was a man,
a quiet eccentric man.
He traveled the world near and far;
without a boat, without a car.
To moonlit valleys in the inky dark,
He journeyed on without a remark.
He was in search for a hidden clue
What that was, nobody knew.
Cloaked he was, with his hood up high.
No one bothered to ever ask why.
Determined he was to find his way;
he would not be sidetracked, he would not stray.
The years flew by and I grew older,
but he did not, he only grew bolder.
To this day as I lay in my bed,
I tell the story of the young hooded man
who traveled this would with courage in hand.