I know he croaks, croaks and croaks.
Like a croaker on a rainy day he talks;
He croaks, and I hear his prolonged croak,
Yet why dry dung his throat does choke?
Croak! I know, his croaking is a flaw,
But another’s flaw now begins to glow;
Croak! Croak! I do hear his guttural croak,
Yet why dry poo his throat does choke?
Whizz… a bloodhound flies sky-bound.
There! a dead swan thuds on the ground;
A king a wanton archer inaptly did crown;
Aha! this monk now proves king a clown.
Copyright © April 15, 2019, Newton Ranaweera
Image source: Pixabay
Inspired by a Buddhist legendary tale.
A monk, due to habits that he had developed in his previous births, threw a stone and killed down a flying swan. Other monks rebuked and took him before their Master, the Blessed One. Then the Blessed One told them that the monk had done the same in his previous births, too.
A king had a talkative chaplain who went on talking and did not let any other to talk. The king, having been tired of his chaplain’s habit of talking, got a skilled but disabled archer to stop his chaplain’s croaking. The archer hid himself behind a curtain, which had a narrow opening. Also, he had a bag of dry goat’s dung and a pea-shooter with him. Whenever the chaplain opened his mouth, the archer shot a pellet of dry goat’s dung into the chaplain’s mouth. Soon, the chaplain gobbled a bag of dry goat’s dung. Thereafter, the chaplain kept his mouth shut and the so happy king gave a handsome award to the archer.