the evils of exaggeration

It was ages and ages and ages ago

Or at least that is what I have always been told.

That our tale did transpire in the lovely sweet shire

Where there once was the kingdom of Marigold.

O in Marigold way there back then did reside

A handsome young groom and his lovely young bride.

The groom went by the name of one Albert McGee

And the silliest young man you ever did see

Could never compare

With young Mr. McGee.

O our Albert’s curse, now for better or worse,

Was that he was a spinner of tales.

O nothing much ever couldn’t happen to him

That he didn’t make better or worse.

He never could go on a simple boat ride

Without getting the overblown notion

That he’d been all marooned, perhaps even harpooned,

By pirates out on some huge ocean.

He couldn’t just be in the fine company

Of some puppies or horses or cats

Without turning them into

A truly mean bunch of

Vampires and dragons and rats.

O one fine day our friend Albert truly got an important come-uppance.

And to see the looks of the smirk on his face

I’d pay many and many a tuppence.

The townspeople gathered, all angry and blathered

Whereupon they did firmly declare:

“O Albert , you teller of tall tales,

To deceive us once more don’t you dare!”

They put their naughty friend in the dungeon

Where he has been imprisoned since then

O from that moment on he was truly

A most horrible wretch among men.

So the point of my tale, I must tell you,

Should you tell a tall tale now and then

O please try not to be like poor Albert  McGee

Who will never be heard from again.


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