To whoever will find this note I left, 

'Tis certain I am dead and not so quick. 

Be still, and sit inside your cleft, 

As I read to you my fable thick. 

So hearken! For here begins my tale. 

A young lad I was. I was in a clique. 

And over my face, I pull a veil. 

Behold! That I was very sick. 

So sick, that from the earth did I sail.