The Wise and Foolish Man

A man who knows not is the one who knows more For a man who’s content to maintain his store Will not be hated for his prideful words on his door Or his snobbish remarks that make his floor Nor will he wish for darkness when he’s offered a light Because everyone known one can’t see in the night Unless you’re a cat, a dog, or a kite But the Foolish Man won’t know a fly from a gnat He’ll keep on plotting, giving his mind praise for this and that When really he’s praising his folly, walking like a blind old rat Till the day he falls into trap he’s been digging for years And calls for the Wise Man, the fool all wet with tears But it’s too late for help to come; he’s killed by the demons of his fears