A Ballad of Borrowed Glory

Come listen, my friends, to the tale I spin,
Of a town by the northern stream;
Where a fellow arrived with a clever grin,
And sold folk a marvelous dream.

He claimed he had fashioned a wondrous device,
That would mend every trouble and flaw;
He charged them a fortune, then praised his advice,
As they cheered with a hearty hurrah.

The clever man traded his shadow for a song.

The villagers gathered from valley and plain,
To witness his grand display;
He promised them riches, a cure for their pain,
And a shortcut to fortune’s way.
Yet the marvel he showed was a painted disguise,
A trick wrapped in ribbons and cheer;
The fellow grew famous for selling his lies,
While the truth grew harder to hear.

The clever man traded his shadow for a song.

Years rolled onward through sunshine and storm,
And the town grew wiser at last;
They saw that his bargain had broken its charm,
A relic from foolish years past.
The man still sang of his glorious feat,
And boasted of triumph and fame;
Yet all who recalled that extravagant street
Knew folly had signed his name.

The clever man traded his shadow for a song.

So raise up a glass to the jesters of old,
Who laugh when the proud ones ascend;
For a tale may be dressed in a garment of gold,
Yet truth will appear in the end.
A shadow once sold may seem a fair prize,
When crowds chase a fanciful throng;
Then time reveals what the bargain implies:
The singer was sold by the song.