I was a humble farmer,
No time for swords nor armour,
But my face it bore a dark and sombre frown.
I beat my timid wife
And threatened with a knife
The loyal Tax Collectors of the Crown.

Next I was a sturdy horse,
Made to pull a plough of course.
Though I had a place to sleep and loads of hay,
I stubbornly refused,
So my rear was soundly bruised,
And I kicked and sent my master on his way.

Third time a smelly pig,
But I didn't give a fig,
And when the pigherd came to clean the sty,
I charged the ragged boy
And flung him like a toy,
So they hung me up and left me there to die.

My next life as an adder
Just made me all the madder,
And when I found the child outside at play,
I slithered to its side
And opened jaws up wide,
Made sure that it saw no other day.

Now I thought that was the end
Of where my soul could wend,
And there wasn't any further to go down.
Like some strange and cosmic game
Another human I became.
A loyal Tax Collector of the Crown.


Penned by my hand on the 16th of Miraman, in the year 376 AF.