I once heard of a wise little fish,
An old and experienced swimmer
who avoided becoming a dish
in any Man or Woman's dinner
by showing how lovely he is
and telling how old he had grown.
He told them of old business,
of now mighty trees whose seeds he'd sown.
He showed them his tricks
how wonderfully his scales shown
when he leaped to do flips.
Then they made the little old fish their own.
They loved the little old fish
like their only young son
Who thought it could grant his wish.
He wanted only for fun
and never to toil.
He grabbed it's head
but, too feverish for spoil,
he knocked the old fish dead.
His mother and father came
they saw what he'd done
they begged and prayed in vain
then punished the son,
"You sought not to toil
but death you brought
to one old as the soil.
So search until you've been taught
to love all the world's pain
as much as it's joy
and shoulder the blame
for this death boy."
He searched and he bled
But in life he never did get
knowledge through his thick head
or learn to regret
The deeds that he'd done.
So he lived with scratch and burn
but never with fun
exactly what his greed did earn.