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Out Of Your Hair
I strolled along the streets of Stratford,
Admiring the town in her morning grace,
Yet I stopped when I heard,
A voice cry out “Oh noble-looking sir!
With noble-looking face,
Please slow your pace,
And hear my words,
Give me some coins, one to bathe,
One to eat some food in the shade,
One for brandy, to wash off my tears,
One to wish for better years,
Give me these so I may better fare,
And I shall be out of your hair.”
I turn around and am surprised,
To see a man in poorest state,
Unkempt beard, unruly locks,
Covered in mud,
Eyes red with blood,
His face sags,
Wearing sparse rags,
Yet he talks,
Eloquently so, and learnedly,
That I rush forward hurriedly,
And say “Good chap,
I could not have surmised,
What twist of fate,
Or tumultuous peril,
Has made you so ill,
And deprived of luxury,
It makes me worry,
Come to my home and tell me your story,
Over dinner with wine.”
Says he “That’s fine,
We will sup with wine and bread and flair,
And then I shall be out of your hair.”
At my mansion, he eats like a pig,
Taking a swig,
Of some wine centuries old,
Having dinner two-fold,
When stops to breath,
I take a hold,
Of his hand, saying “Good chap,
When we met,
You needed food, rest, drink,
And I would think,
To grant your wish,
If I were a fountain,
But I am not,
So tell me now,
Exactly how,
A man of such swift thoughts,
Sleeps shelterless in the rain?”
After clearing his dish,
He says “Noble sir,
I do recall,
I was a merchant,
Operating in Venice,
Or was it Paris?
One splendid fall,
I am cheated by a man,
Whom I considered my friend,
He hatched a plan,
To take my wealth,
And leave me in bad health,
He laughed in the end,
At my pitiful plight,
Since then every night,
I’m afflicted with cramps and sleep is rare,
Give me a room, some clothes,
And I shall be out of your hair.”
I clothed him thusly,
In robes of mine own,
So he looked much like I,
And for the glancing eye,
We were the same,
I gave him some money,
So he could spend freely,
He bought gifts of great cost,
And to my great surprise,
Gave some to the lame,
To the poor, to the pained,
Yet gave the rest,
To society’s very best,
Higher than my rank,
So a question did arise,
I say “Good chap,
To be frank,
You return the gratitude,
You were once shown,
By giving to the poorer,
Of your humility I’m surer,
But I am lost,
On your attitude,
Of gifting the richer,
Whose desires are never,
Left unfulfilled.”
He responded “Noble sir,
I am glad I am still,
In your high graces,
And I give to the lower,
For I was in similar places,
But I feel you are slower,
To understand my intentions,
I should then mention,
That my business has sunk,
In my absence it flunked,
So I established connections,
With greater ally,
So that I may try,
To achieve distinction,
But until then I must ask,
If not a trifling task,
Make me a partner in your business, your work I may share,
And I promise that I will get out of your hair.”
He now is my partner,
My equal in every way,
Except for name, face, and manner,
Yet he works rarely,
I see him barely,
He is never at home,
Always at parties great,
And of late,
He does not talk to me at all,
So I dine alone,
Wondering what became,
Of my good friend,
When there is a knock at the door,
It is him for sure,
But the door is broken down,
He comes in with a frown,
Pointing at me,
With finger accusatory,
Shouting I am a culprit,
Saying I have sinned,
Like a priest from the pulpit,
Saying I cheated him of money,
Completely untrue,
Yet here come two men,
I realise then,
They the same nobles who,
He gifted great luxuries,
I declare that it is a lie,
But the men cry,
That he is pure,
They are sure,
He helps the lower class,
Giving them great gifts,
A true gentleman,
Of noble clan,
I am then stripped of my title,
My house, my clothes,
Thrown on the roads,
My appearance shifts,
I become rough and haggard,
And after many days,
Comes he like a braggard,
Wearing my fashion,
I say “Noble sir,
How now,
You monster in disguise,
I should have been wise,
Not to let such a knave,
A devil incarnate,
Step into my gate,
Yet I was a slave,
To your charms,
See how it harms,
My very being,
Are you not seeing,
My irate state,
My clothes are dirt,
I’ve eaten poorly of late,
Every muscle hurts,
I cry in pain,
Give back my name,
Or at least repay me,
The way I helped you.”
He says “Good chap,
I shall not take you to my abode,
Give you work, or lend you clothes,
But I shall give you much more,
I shall give you these coins four,
For cleansing, eating, drinking,
And wishful thinking,
But at least you can console yourself. I hope you are aware,
Now I am finally out of your hair.”
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