He shouts his wares down the crooked lane

Silver spoons and cheap champagne

Maps to treasure buried deep

Stories to buy but none to keep

The sun paints gold on his weathered cart

Each trinket’s got its own small heart

A wooden bird that barely flies

Buttons blue like stormy skies

He’s selling dreams by the pound

Spinning stories round and round

For every coin you place in hand

He builds you castles out of sand

Patchwork jacket colors loud

He dances strange through the rushing crowd

His words a riddle his smile a clue

Of the hundred lives he’s wandered through

A broken clock he swears it sings

A faded postcard of empty springs

Charms for luck that may or not

A jar of stars a genie forgot

He’s selling dreams by the pound

Spinning stories round and round

For every coin you place in hand

He builds you castles out of sand