| Golden Eggs by Bobby Whitworth |
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| The goose that laid the golden egg Let lay her wings, hung low her head. She was sad for she had grown old And had no babes, just eggs of gold. "How horrible a mother I must be If the lord would deny a child to me." She wept at the hand that fate did hand her. She wasted the seed of many a gander. "Promiscuity cannot help a whore barren. My womb is dead, no life is therein." What a life to lead, a life to loathe. She did hate to see those eggs of gold. "Why men would hunt, to capture me, A wasted vessel, I cannot believe. Why do they not cook my flesh? Other than food, I am useless." "The eager humans watch my nest, Impatiently waiting to snatch the blessed Rock from my ass, stone from my gut. What is the use? Why and for what!" "The chicks are cold, there is no treasure. I have only dead things, no child, no pleasure. I am useless and pathetic. At least I grow old So I will have to lay no more horrible eggs of gold." |
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