Follow me
My footsteps lead the way
To a ship of seven masts
With seven sails of blue and grey

Merry men await on board
Noble sailors dressed in white
Captain Thompson holds the wheel
Cegs of rum are poured by night

We're on our way, the ocean spreads
And the horizon feels so far
A fortnight and a half we sail
Guided by the northern star

Till at last we see a land
Mountains green and purple cliffs
Many tales you've heard of it
A land described in ancient myths

Thompson shouts: away the anchor!
And the seamen all obey
Wishdwarves gather on the seashore
As we softly moor to bay

They are little furry creatures
They greet us kindly, with a smile
They wear a wise and noble look
That spears your soul and makes you sigh

You long to know, to comprehend
Whether the legends all are true
You have carefully picked your wishes
And your desire to fulfill them grew

As you read your list aloud
They ask for nothing in return
And with a silent wave of finger
They execute your will and yearn

Pleased and drunken we head back
To our wives and girls and boys
Yet you can't ignore the feeling
Something's missing in these joys.