DISCLAIMER: I do not own the character expressed in this tale. All rights go to and are hoarded by Disney.
The Merchant of Agrabah
…Across the vast and empty plains, a lonely figure trekked beneath the punishing warmth of the midday sun. Over oceans of sand and dust, the golden eyed peddler led his hearty camel carrying baskets upon baskets of valuable trinkets and wares, all ripe for the grand bazaars and bustling cities. The peddler tightened his tattered habit over his face as he ascended over a high dune. That was when he mounted his already burdened camel. A smile had stretched over his bearded face as he beheld the blinking shine of a grand city in the distance, nestled over a vast river. The old merchant started to sing.
-O-
O, I come from a land, from a faraway place
Where the caravan-camels roam
Where it's flat and immense
And the heat is intense
It's barbaric, but hey, it's home
-O-
When the winds from the east
And the sun's from the west
And the sand in the glass is right
Come on down
Stop on by
Hop a carpet and fly
To another Arabian Night!
-O-
Arabian Nights!
Like Arabian Days!
More often than not
Are hotter than hot
In a lot of good ways!
-O-
Arabian Nights!
'Neath Arabian Moons!
A fool off his guard
Could fall and fall hard
Out there on the dunes.
-O-
It has become dark when the peddler enters through the magnificent city gates and heads down toward the market district. The white glow of the crescent moon rested its light upon the city, shining bright like a beacon against a dark mantle. That evening the city was asleep, its citizens were safe behind secure walls of their families and left out on the streets were the destitute and the homeless, perhaps a few old peddlers setting up their wares.
-O-
As you wind through the streets at the fabled bazaar
With the cardamom-cluttered stalls
You can smell every spice
While you haggle the price
Of the silks and the satin shawls.
-O-
O, the music that plays as you move through a maze
In the haze of your pure delight
You are caught in a dance
You are lost in the trance
Of another Arabian Night!
-O-
There's a road that may lead you
To good or to greed through
The power your wishing commands
Let the darkness unfold or find fortunes untold
Well, your destiny lies in your hands…
-O-
Arabian Nights!
Like Arabian Days
More often than not
Are hotter than hot
In a lot of good ways!
-O-
Arabian Nights!
Like Arabian Dreams
This mystical land
Of magic and sand
Is more than it seems.
-O-
As soon as the camel arrived at the peddler's usual alcove in the city's grand bazaar by the river, it collapsed onto the floor in exhaustion and the robed merchant himself rolled onto his feet, ready to begin. "Ah," he started. "As-salamu alaikum, noble reader and good evening. Welcome to Agrabah, The Ringed City of Peace and seat of power for the noble Caliph. It is a city of mystery…and enchantment… and the finest merchandise this side of the Silk Road!" With that, the peddler's wares exploded from their baskets and arranged themselves into a suitable market stall.
Various tricks and trinkets lined the counter, beautiful golden necklaces and bands adorned with shining jewels hung on the posts.
"On sale today and possibly yesterday, but not tomorrow! Now look at this…the Ark of the Covenant, a source of revered power…also doubles as the finest portable refrigerator in those hot Arabian night journeys…not interested? Okay, what about this. Pandora's Box. I sell it to you for half price. There is something still stuck in the bottom, I cannot scrape it off, oh well. What about this fine Black Sea Tupperware? Listen to this…puff…see it's still good— wait, wait, don't go!" The peddler is suddenly fearful to lose his audience, but quick composes himself. "I can see that you are only interested in the most exceptionally rare. I think then that you will be most rewarded to consider…this." The golden eyed peddler searched around in his robes where he was able to retrieve a brass oil lamp of exquisite design. Emblazed upon it were ancient writings of old Arabic script no longer in use today. "Do not be fooled by its common-place appearance. Like so many things it is not what is on the outside but what lies…within, that counts—Wait, this is no ordinary lamp!" Again, he recomposed himself, patting down his greying robes. "It once changed the course of a young man's life. Someone who, like this lamp was more than he appeared…a diamond in the rough." He then stood to present the lamp more openly. "Praise be to the mighty Allah for do I dare recount to you the tale of the boy, the princess…and the lamp. It has come to me, O auspicious reader, that…"
—O—