the minstrel of the square

there once was a wandering minstrel who came upon a small village after a long journey. he walked to the center square and began to play his instrument and sing. after a few minutes, a small crowd had gathered to listen to the minstrel. when he had finished his song, a small boy stepped from the crowd and asked him, "minstrel, do you know the song o'lady of the morn?" the minstrel smiled and replied, "i know not the song you speak of lad, but after my many travels i have learned a few that might please you." he began to play another song, this one more lively than the last. when he had finished, an old woman asked, "might you know the hymn blessed be the sheppard?" the minstrel smiled and replied, "i know not that song my lady, but this one i'm sure you will like!" he began to play a spiritual hymn and plucked away at his instrument. the crowd became bored and moved on about their daily routines.
later that night, penniless and hungry, he was mauled by wild animals.


Grog said...

This is not only a heart-warming fable with a valuable lesson, but also a metaphor for the times we live in.
In a post-literate society, all of our fiction should come in one-paragraph form.
Bless you for your good work.

Fredda said...

thanks for sharing your ravings and hallucinations with us, superflywebpimp. You remind me of Walt Whitman and mark Twain's later cynicism combined- with a touch of Bukowski and Blake and all the zen masters who never wanted to be masters.