Who Was the Fool?
A fool there was, so the story goes,
Who fell in love with some feminine clothes,
And a bit of a bone and a hank of hair,
That’s known as the woman that did not care;
But a fool must follow his natural bent,
So it wasn’t long ’fore his goods were spent.
When he was stripped to his foolish hide
It naturally followed she threw him aside,
But memory of happiness still survived—
So some of him lived, if most of him died.
A wise man, too, whom everyone knows,
Once fell in love with some feminine clothes
And a bit of a bone and a hank of hair,
That’s known as the woman who did not care,
That the fool had called his lady fair;
But the man of wisdom—he did not dare,
Though he loved as much, his will was strong;
He knew the world would say ’twas wrong,
And say it as though they were sincere,
To love this woman who had a career.
Then she must go, or the world would scoff
If they knew of his love, so he cast her off.
He lived alone and he soon grew rich,
For he hadn’t been tarred by the vampire’s pitch.
To himself he said, he was doing right,
Though he craved for her love both day and night—
’Twas then he sought, as he but knows,
For the one he loved in those feminine clothes,
And the hank of hair and the bit of bone
That had gone her way and left him alone,
For she had pride and she’d never forgive—
He never died—for he never did live;
He had bowed to the world, had been its tool—
Who was the wise man and who was the fool?