Mustapha’s Tale - Angelo Branduardi

Mustapha's Tale - Angelo Branduardi
Mustapha the silver bit
And stoked up the fire
Began his tale once
In the blue hills so tired
I found a cave to shelter in
The entrance was low
If its fable or fantasy the desert wind knows
If its fable or fantasy the desert wind blows
Suddenly awakened with a
Black chill of terror
I saw twelve hooded figures
In graveyard apparel
Who shuffling towards
Me where I crouched by the wall
Said Mustapha you're now one of us
We have need of one more
Yes joining hands they left
A place and called for one more
Thirteen we must be tonight
For conjure and scheme
My limbs gave me to them
I prayed that I dreamed
My hands held fast by other
Hands the circle was closed
If its fable or fantasy the desert wind knows
If its fable or fantasy the desert wind blows
A pentagram of Caldea
Was drawn in vermillion
Where five lamps were
A'flickering to foul incantation
When all at once sulphurous vapours did rise
A cloud a shape a form
A face with tapers for eyes
Never was a gargoyle more
Hideously moulded
Or a voice heard more of snake fit
Which that awful head issued
No greater riches offered for
A small sacrifice
A name in blood a promised soul
The unholy price
A name in blood a promised soul
The unholy price
It offered me all women both living and dead
Palaces and flower a crown for my head
But from somewhere deep inside
Me came the strength to scream no
If its fable or fantasy the desert wind knows
If its fable or fantasy the desert wind blows
Mustapha the silver bit and
Stoked up the fire
Began his tale once in the
Blue hills so tired
I found a cave to shelter in and
The rest I've disclosed
Fable or fantasy the desert wind blows
If its fable or fantasy the desert wind blows