We all think that Wise Men are Lords of the Earth.
It was they, after all, who were there at the Birth.
But one told me things were not all hunky dory
so below I relate his extraordinary story.
What’s his name, you may ask, which one of the three?
That, alas, must remain an unsolved mystery.
When I asked if it mattered whether I talked,
after consenting at first, he finally balked.
He said being a wise man was like being a spy
for at no time could he take his eye off the sky.
There was always a danger that a voice from afar
would imperiously command him: “follow that star!”
When suddenly ordered to make a long trip
he hoped against hope it was in a space ship.
For an urgent command to set off on a trek
would surely elicit a wistful “Oh, heck!”
Still, he knew that his duty must always be done
even when it implied spending weeks in the sun.
So he packed up his bags and mounted his steed
with the fervent, though futile, desire for more speed.
The sands whirled around him as he set off apace
though he knew that his camel was not fit to race.
There was not much to look at as he followed his map
and he must at all costs avoid taking a nap.
When he came to a well and a much welcome rest
He had to endure every kind of bad jest.
Those who got there before him let fly every barb
and went into hysterics when they saw his strange garb.
They were not used to seeing a hat like a pumpkin
so they thought that our king was a real country bumpkin.
They truly believed when they looked at his cloak
that he must be the butt of someone’s sick joke.
His clothing, you see, was not proper attire
for traversing a desert in conditions so dire.
The garments he wore to answer the call
would have been a real hit at a Venetian masked ball.
The people who sold them must bear most of the blame,
that they did not advise him is a scandalous shame.
They wanted, it’s obvious, to make a quick buck
from a poor guy they soon recognized as a schmuck.
Still, he plodded right on despite all the trials
consoled that, at least, he was piling on miles.
He was planning to use them when he next had a break
to visit a spot serving nice veggie steak.
When his journey was over and he’d completed his task
he expected in glory to be able to bask,
but a cell call he got set his feelings on fire
and he then and there made up his mind to retire.
It seems that instead of his heading for home
he should visit a far-off place they called Rome
where, it was said, things had got out of hand,
and our Wise Man was told he must take a firm stand.
Now, while no one could doubt his desire to obey
it was really too much to expect him to stay
perhaps weeks in a boat whose every shudder and shake
would make riding a camel seem a real piece of cake.
So this is the tale of how one very Wise Man
got out of the rat race and drew up a plan
of such ingenuity it left him exultant,
he would change his profession … and become a consultant!