"with martial tones of red and blue,
the narwal's form was blown
upon the shore, a ghastly hue,
and with a caterwaul lay prone.
quoth he 'the sea recedes apace;
the sands are rough and loose;
a tide i never shall outrace,
or even bring to truce.
if only hoof and heel i bore
and great white flowing mane,
my golden horn afore,
a rainbow for a train.
then i should glide across the earth,
the winds upon my face,
my fishy form given new birth
to a steed of magical grace.' "
- Sir Martin Caterwaul III, from "Song of the Ancient Narwal, Part XXIII"