From Centuries of Old

a poem by tobias kerins, UK

We’ve all heard the story of the three little pigs
Where unity outweighs being alone
A stick on its own or a bundle of twigs
Where the strength of this message is sewn

Pretence it drowned the boy that cried wolf
He knew not what his actions would bring
But when he needed help despair did engulf
A different cry he surely would sing

He who laughs last is often graced
With the time to relax and breathe
Night of the long knives don’t have to be faced
As the blade goes back in the sheathe

Never gamble on borrowed money
For certainties don’t exist
Being a loser it just ain’t funny
As debt will always persist

Throw some caution to the wind
And notice it rarely flies back in your face
Pausing for thought and rushing rescind
Put you ahead in the final race

Keep your friends close and your enemies closer
Be prepared and always on guard
Protect your name like a competent grocer
Always hold the final trump card

Sayings gone by from centuries of old
Yet still weighed down with truth
If you don’t believe break one of them
And for real you’ll taste the proof

A wise man indeed
Will practise what he preaches
On these words he does feed
The message it teaches

An Indelible Stain
The Maltese Falcon Vol VII
That Five Letter Word

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