The Tale of Argo

A long, long time ago,

There lived a man named Argo.

To thee, I tell you his story,

For he is blessed with glory.

A happy couple once strolled around a city,

Helping people without worry.

Their faith in God was fortified,

And so the gods were satisfied.

And now the happy God descended,

Toward the couple who were delighted.

He cherished the couple,

And presented them with an apple.

And so the happy God vacated,

While the apple was devoured.

Soon the couple were blessed with a baby,

Who becomes a glorified beardy.

He wasn’t greedy, nor stingy,

He helped the people in glee.

He hath all good qualities but one,

Which made him the swaggering one.

One fine day he received a gift,

A gift from the gods no less fit.

‘Twas a tote of golden coins,

Shinier than the sky’s starry signs.

Despite the godly gift,

He never ran adrift.

He kept doing his work,

But he now spread the word.

“God hath been pleased by me,

A tote of coins was blessed to me.”

He roamed the city,

Helping the ever pity.

Over a month had passed,

And Argo never seemed to change.

The God, seeing his will, was dazzled,

And blessed him a bride, the finest of all.

And yet again, despite the godly gift,

He never ran adrift.

He kept doing his work,

But yet again he spread the word.

“God hath been satisfied by me,

A beautiful bride was blessed to me.”

He still roamed the city,

Helping the ever pity.

The peace of the city was disturbed,

By a new, unpleasant face - a thief.

He roamed about the city from dawn to dusk,

At the dead of night he begins his work.

The city was all gossips about Argo,

About his tote bag and his beautiful bride.

The thief fancied his chances and was ready to go,

Hatching a plan and biding his time.

The thief finally got his way,

And on the night before the wedding,

With his frayed rope and a big gunny,

Stole away the tote and the bride.

Come Dawn Argo was thrown into despair,

For his tote and his bride were taken away.

The city mourned for what could have been a pair,

But they too had to move, for their work pulled them away.

Argo reached the shrine and prayed to the God,

“My wish, my ware, and all that was.

I can no more delay devise,

But welcome pain and let pleasure pass.”

‘Twas the story of Argo the blessed,

And to thee I plead, to gloat hath never helped,

It will bring all but despair and regret,

And so it is important to not blow the trumpet.

With this I now take your leave,

With this shall your dreams deceive;

And when you rise with waking eye,

Remember then this tale of Argo.