STORY POEM FOR KIDS
There was an aimless mendicant,
Up and down, he daily went,
With a bowl in his arms,
To beg for his assorted alms.
As dame luck did smile,
One day by chance he met awhile,
A stranger with a golden beard,
Whose mysterious voice he heard.
That anyone wished could turn,
His long grown up hair golden,
Just for a decade of penance,
Done with all his reverence.
The mendicant with a lust for gold,
Did his penance as was told,
And every hair up that grew,
Became gold it was true.
As the final day of harvest arrived,
He got all his hairs neatly shaved,
When threads of gold fell around,
But Lo! All his own the barber claimed.
The mendicant claimed in turn,
That the treasure was his own,
For he wished to stay in peace,
With his gold at one place.
The dispute went to the Royal Court,
Where His Highness heard their report,
And delivered his judgment,
To the barber’s merriment.
That by custom barbers take,
The shaven hairs anything to make,
But he felt for the mendicant’s plight,
Who labored for pittance day and night.
The King declared a reward,
Of the same weight of gold,
Also chiding the mendicant in need,
To do better things in deed.