I see the young folk start out in life, and before them, there's the showers of April, there's wind and heat and thunder and lightning.

But I'm in warm, brown October, and all of it's gone by me.

And in a little while I'll sleep, and 'tis I need it, God help me! The old don't sleep much, wee Golden Bells, so 'tis a comfort to look forward to one's rest after the hardness of the world.

In a hundred or more years or five hundred, just as the fancy takes me, I'll wake up for a while and wander down the world to hear the people sing my songs, and then I'll go back to my sleep." And she was going to ask him another question when the Sanang came up.
The magician was a thick man with merry eyes and a cruel mouth.
"Golden Bells," he says, "there's rare entertainment in the crystal glass." "What is it, Sanang!" "The warlocks of the Gobi have a young lad down, and they're waiting until the soul comes out of his body.

Come, I'll show you." And in the crystal glass he showed her Marco Polo, and the knees going from under him in the roaring sands.