in a bizarre , sing-song voice that reminded me of my pre-school teacher trying to teach her kids the alphabet , he babbled the following poem , while occasionally crunching on a mosquito : from the heart of the stars came the stewards of light who danced briefly on earth ( crunch ) , then left beings of sight sandmen of dreams , gnomes of the earth shifters of moonbeams , pixies of mirth ( crunch ) monsters of beauty , phantoms of thought mermaids of sea , dragons of naught bound to ( crunch ) service and the molding of hope of earth 's mortals , struggling to cope governed half by wizards , and half by elves they were left quite alone , but not by themselves for one steward of ( crunch ) light remained as well their hearts to control , their story to tell .