Some children turn out to be good
And some turn out be bad.
Some others unfortunately,
Turn out to be quite mad.
It’s tough say exactly why,
Maybe they undergo great pain.
Or maybe they’re just born
With a slightly stranger brain.
I’m quite sure that in the end.
It was all those morals
That drove him round the bend.
But one named after the same man.
His mother worshipped old Aesop,
Like a star-struck teenage fan.
A sweet-tempered, innocent boy,
His mother kept him happy,
But not with any fancy toy.
No she’d read to him each night.
And every tale taught him about
What was wrong, and what was right.
Those morals would hover around him
While he slept on in his bed,
Then creep silently into his mind
And whisper softly in his head.
‘Two heads are better than one’
Was the moral he liked best.
Since he had heard it before
He came to know all the rest.
Lost the details of the story.
The words of the moral rang in his mind,
It turned him slightly awry.
He developed a rather unhealthy
Fascination for Siamese twins,
And he would choose joint victories
Over individual wins.
A duet or a dancing pair.
Coins had just one head,
And they filled him with despair.
The years passed by, and Aesop,
Devoid of any immoral flaw,
Was enrolled as a judge
In his city’s court of law.
An outrageously tedious case.
He sunk into a stupor.
(The arguments had no pace.)
And in a dream there flashed before him
The words of a familiar saying.
In fluorescent colours of different shades
With solemn background music playing.
He awoke and shouted-“Plaintiff,
I am sick of your complaint.
I hereby sentence you to death.”
The women fell into a faint.
The defendant let out a whoop,
He found it rather fun.
The judge cried out- “You too must die.
Two heads are better than one.”
As he danced about like an elf.
His mouth was foaming slightly,
He didn’t seem his usual self.
When the doctor tried to take him away
He didn’t give too much trouble.
All he requested was a stiff drink,
That would help him to see double.