The Two Brothers
May 28, 2001

There once was a man,
Who lived on a hill.
He had a big house,
But naught could he fill,
Cause he had not one friend,
All held him in fear.
He would always rebuke,
And never revere.
Not one good kind word,
Not one loving look,
Not one caring smile,
No warmth at all.
He kept to himself,
And shunned all others,
For he never showed them,
More than a frown.

This man had a brother,
Whose eyes danced with joy,
Whose mouth showed it too,
And who cared by his actions.
All people did love him,
Not one could resist,
His charm won them over;
He's so glad to assist.
Not once without smile,
He walked from his house.
He lived in the city,
In a little old shanty,
It had cracked up walls,
And floors with a creak.
Not one door would open,
Without screaming out loud,
But never did brother,
Cry in disgust.