Long ago, when the world was young,
A man lived in his home alone,
And to his house one day came,
A young man dressed in rags.

The man pleaded with the other,,
To give him room and board,
For the Variach wind was cold,
But shelter he would not give,

For the young man in his pauper dress,
Seemed much like the very kind,
That would rob this poor old man,
Of all his house and home.

So in his blind fear he sent,
The young man on his way,
And retired then to sleep again,
Until the light of day.

When he rose that morning,
And into the dawn sun he went
Outside his lawn strode the mortician,
In his usual austere dress

When the old man inquired
As to his presence here
The mortician quietly told him
A young man had died near

When the old man rushed to see
Which neighbor of his was harmed
He found then in the coffin
The young man from before

The moral of the story
Is easy as it seems
The old man judge him wrongly
And to death doomed him be

So when you meet someone
Or hear something of 'their kind'
Make sure you know first hand
What really is there type

For someday this may be
The case for me or you
In which your judgements
Can mean the life of two

Penned by my hand on the 19th of Lleian, in the year 110 MA.