Once there lived a bitter king,
His crown of shining gold,
He called all the wisest men,
to bring into his fold,
He tested one and each in turn,
did fail upon the path,
and last of all a farmers hand,
by the name of lath,
Upon the road there came a man,
Lath saw that his cloak was slashed,
Looking at the snow in path,
Lath felt fear and wrath,
He offered him his cloak,
only then the man spoke,
“I’m a man who stole a horse,
oh shame my family name,
The guards did run to kill me,
I know I’m the one to blame,
my daughters ill,
she needs her fill,
So what was I to do?”
Lath did not speak,
the man looked weak,
So he bandaged up his wounds,
“When you see a man in need,
Be the one to give this seed,
Give without thought of self,
Then God will give you what you need,”
“Good deeds beget good deeds,
you don’t know where this path my lead,
So ponder on this for a time,
you’re already punished for your crime,”
“The wisest men live their lives,
Hiding in books,
Living in lies,
Giving poor haughty looks,
So wise yet build on those forsook,
But I failed the kings test!
He called me a pest,”
The man just smiled and shook his head,
And this is what he said,
“I was not sent by the bitter king,
The old bird who cannot sing,
But one above them all,
Now watch lest your foot may fall,
It’s not laws which matter most,
But the spirit in which they toast,”
Lath learned that day,
God only knows where mans path lay,
And what you learned is fate it seems,
Give without want,
And the cup teems,
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