An avaricious man, for numbers of reasons,
Most of his friends were just as him too
Greed the father of patience and a trapper
Tramp so lacking, seemed Lazarus was better.
As if the cost for any error in life
Was several whippings and knocks on head,
But as far as I can cleanly publish;
Patience graduated as a skilled brickie.
He heaped them vows not to tarry,
Poor wife of greed had welled down tears
And asked in prayers for him”Go well my son”
To feet patience rose , headed for the downtown.
The world, for him, moved too swifty.
There he made money like anyone there
Enough that a heart would lavish or give
But thought of his parents won’t make him live.
Since to look at times was dark,
At his arrival in the village that day
He agreed a verdict with his mind
To rest his weary head behind.
Before I save a stranger floating a-coast
Or create life for a walking corpse,
What his kind of man is, I must clue
The king must ask who fathered you.
Allow me! O king, said patience;
I don’t know where I came from, either
Iflew away when my father wasn’t fifty
And now I myself is two-and-thirty.
You will wash your body, o stranger
I’ll make you sit, as my slaves will usher
At where my friend dwell, you’ll remain
Sleep some hours and find your home again.
So there in he laid, that cold night,
A lantern and just a coat was given
Where doors and windows spared patience hooked
And asked that a meal should be cooked.
Many minutes passed and nothing was done,
The spouse were there, the man had heard them
Muttered, what should we offer this stranger?
For how say we too are sick of hunger? .
But for their grumbles moved his sympathy,
The stranger opened his bag full of money
Removed, and gave a note from it’s brim
The old man said nothing but only stared at him.
Between the sleep of that night,
The life of the man with no name was trapped
Greed and his wife stabbed him in the face,
And was secretly buried like a nut-case.
In morn when dews on earth were few,
And on natural things the sun had shone
The king rode out to Greed on his horse
To prove him whom the stranger said he was.
How he claimed his name to be Patience,
Greed to be his father, a son of this soil
That he flew away when his father wasn’t fifty
And he himself is now two-and-thirty.
You see our tale has turned parable,
That a Man’s ill whim for wealth is evil ,
As Greed with a rope jumped his wall,
Who knows, if he is gone to end it all.