By a fortuneteller I was told
a beggar will me betray
my future had been sold
without any further delay

all desires were sacked
dreams had all been auctioned
any further plans were packed
stored away and sanctioned

I’m a beggar; I’m a boy
searching for my future
tooting on my simple toy
annoying every chick and rooster

But I doubt that gypsy though
Her cards I wish to bury
By the past I have learned
I do not need to worry

All is good at evening sun
gone are all my battles
even things I’ve never done
are stored away in bottles

By the sunset I can tell
there are springs of plenty
where I dig my next well
fortune will pour our gently