The Prodigal Son

"I am going to seek my fortune!"

Quoth the aristocrat's son.

Off he went, with robes and gold;

For three years did he travel.

He reached a grand ol' gambling house,

He wasted and did carouse.

He earned nil, but wasted still;

So sold his robes and jewels.

"I'll travel on, for my fortune!"

Saith the aristocrat's son.

Off he went, with shirts and coat;

For three years did he travel.

He reached a farmland and a field,

He milked the cow, herded the pigs.

He earned a bit, his old debts hit;

So sold his shirts and coat.

"I'll still get my fortune!"

Quoth the aristocrat's son.

Off he went, with box and rags;

For three years did he travel.

He reached a town, with pavements wide,

He settled there and swept.

He found a coin, and bought a coat;

But lost his broom and home.

"Sinking deep is my fortune..."

Sighed the aristocrat's son.

Off he went, with sack and rags;

For three years did he travel.

He reached a slum of destitute,

He found a spot for himself.

He begged, and nearly starved to death;

So left with naught in hand.

"In my home was my fortune..."

Whisper'd the Prodigal son.

He returned, with naught in hand;

For three years did he travel.

He reached his house, tears welling,

A damned prodigal he was!

His father came, he bowed in shame;

So sold his pride and cried.

Epilogue:

"Let us rejoice our fortune!"

Smiled his forgiving father.

"Butcher the calf, bring out the wine;

Let us dance and dine!"

And his firstborn's anger,

The loving father calmed.

"He was lost, and is now found;

But you were ever beside. (me)"