Dull and Rusty Blade

The man was strong at twenty,
With a knife sharp and lusty.
He slipped it into its sheath
Since he was then in good health —
Ah, how he wanted a wife!

He wended through the forest
Searching for female beast
Through whose flesh his knife could stab:
In glee he sang rub-a-dub-dub…
Ah, he wished to use his knife!

But he was too selective,
Having in mind his motive
To knife only the right beast
Whose flesh he liked the taste;
He could not yet use his knife.

A few decades slid away;
The bachelor, now weary,
Was too old more than ninety.
His knife’s blade dull and rusty;
He remained a bachelor.


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