Marc Bolan And T Rex Reading By John Peel (my People) Lyrics

Reading By John Peel (my People) Lyrics

Kingsley Mole sat high on a windy knoll, his eyes consuming the silent midnight
woods. 
He nuzzled his long molish snout deep inside the heart of a marigold and let
his molish 
imagination skip to and fro over sunken galleons and pirate pictures of rusted
doubloons 
and deep-water cabins stacked to the brim with musty muskets and goldfish
gauntlets, 
once worn by Henry Morgan. The lark awoke and doffed its plumed three cornered
hat 
to its own sleepy-eyed reflection, then it hopped past the crested nest of the
snoring cuckoo, 
and flew off into the Lionel Lark morning looking for friend Mole. Mole was on
a marigold 
comedown and sulkely scraped bluebeat rythms with his ground-digging paw. 
"Yes," he whispered, "Me and Li are going aquesting for the
Lilly Pond of Fox Necks. 
Li`ll know all the mapping gen[??], so the mole, kneeling on the soft soil,
said a morning prayer 
to Ra, not even caring if he dirtied his yellow Rupert trousers because his
molish mind knew that 
praying was special.