19 July 2012
I'm imaging this as a song on horrible histories!!! Don't know why!!! ;)
My father told me not, To be greedy, to be, Happy with what I had got.
But when I saw that first block, My mind, thought, Papa, maybe not,
A rich man, with, Red cloaks and finery, And watches of silver,
He left his door unlocked, An open invitation, why not, tall candlesticks, pocketed,
And brooches, with rubies, And slippers with emeralds, pocketed,
My friends said they where sad, to see my sorry state, I wondered why,
Then another open door, Gold bars galore, thought I will have some more,
A sapphire necklace, a diamond ring, a great master piece,
The happiest, I'd ever been, truth be told, my joy was short lived,
A copper came, to my door, and the words ' your nicked!',
My story came to an end, When I was hanged, sigh, the trick is don't be a thief, in 1683.
Greed.. • Opuss № I