“I am a teller of stories,” said the tramp as he was dragged before the court of the king.
“A weaver of dreams.
I can dance, sing, and in the right weather stand on my head.
I know seven words of Latin.
I have a little magic and a trick or two.
I know the proper way to meet a dragon, can fight dirty but not fair, and once swallowed thirty oysters in a minute.
I am not domestic.
I am a luxury, and in that sense, necessary.”