Sep 5, 2012

SINGER OF THE SCREW-YOU LAND




Once upon a time, in a distant SCREW-YOU LAND,
Lived a singer, with his SCREW-YOU BAND.
He danced and roamed from street to street,
Shouting aloud, and calling it a melodic treat.

Everyone in the land, and some on his own bandstand,
Were aware, that his music was laid and bland!
No ears did he give to the townsmen,
Neither did he react to what his mates had to say,
He continued singing his songs, to everyone, whatsoever it may!

And then came one day,
When the town heard the SCREWER of the SCREW- YOU LAND proclaim:

“You make one more song, darn you, the SCREW-SINGER,
  You lose your tongue, darn you, the SCREW-SINGER!”

The SCREW-LANDERS did sympathize,
But underneath, they had a reason to rejoice,
They were hopeful that now, the singer had no other choice!

Long takes to prosper, and longer turns to reign,
The SCREW-SINGER had one last song to make,
All heard as he sang along,
Without a fear to lose his songs:

“Oh, you SCREWER, of the SCREW-YOU LAND,
  Do chop off my tongue, if you feel my music is so screwed up bland.
  Do remind me what remains for me,
  I know nothing, but the songs I sing,
  The songs, which are my only abbey!
  Oh, you SCREWER, of the SCREW-YOU LAND,
  Can a man live after losing his gland?”

Everyone heard, and everyone saw,
How the SCREWER stuck to his law!

A slash of the sword, and blood everywhere,
The singer lost his soul in the petite affair!

No one screamed, and none did shed any tears,
As the SCREW-SINGER’s shrills fainted, without any sears.

Death ends as much as it revives,
Nothing more can now be heard on SCREW-LAND,
More than the SCREW-SINGER's advice!

As all the younkers rise, and sing along,

“Tell me oh SCREWER of the SCREW-YOU LAND,
 Can a man live after losing his gland?”



PS:  Never deprive someone of the right to feel the soul inside!
    

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