Aesop lied; he sold his soul, once upon a summer’s day,
Before you pity, before you judge, allow me my side of the tale,
I danced and pranced, they piously hated to see me play,
Those scurrying ants, those jealous ants, marching around the vale.
I was drunk, I truly was, and the summer sun was my aged wine,
I heard the wind whisper; I sang to the roses and watched them bloom,
Those infernal ants, those dull little things, they never did see, they never had time,
They shook their heads, sages in spasms, gleefully predicting my doom.
My honour I must defend, truth be told,
Winter’s frost gnawed away at summer’s green, the bright sun now no more than a gleam,
But I swear, I never did plead; over life I loosened my haggardly hold,
And yet I smiled, for I know of the beauty of starry nights, that others can only dream.
My life though short was coloured and sweet, seize the day,
Else time is a bearded fool, an endless stretch of dreary gray.