I.

Three men went out
To see the world,
And learn all that they could.
The first man was a carpenter,
a nobleman of wood.
The second was a baker,
who knew all that he should;
but the third man was a blacksmith,
and not a man of good
intentions.

They travelled ten years--
ten long years they travelled--
And all the world they did see,
and in God's glory,
prevailed valiantly.
The carpenter made lovely furnishings for
couples old and new.
The baker baked them wedding cakes,
birthday cakes, pastries, pies, and more.
The blacksmith shod the creatures, and from
their owner's pockets,
took more than he was due.

As ten long years came to an end,
the carpenter did say,
"You two friends of mine, I have grown weary
and frail with age. My hands no longer hold
the nails; my body is filled with pain."

The baker said,
"I agree, old friend, and to both of you I tell true:
I cannot take ten more years,
nor seven,
nor five,
nor two.
So as much as I have loved our time,
I do believe it's true:
Our travels must come to an end, that we
might bid each other adieu."

The blacksmith with his crafty eyes,
did stroke his chin and think.
Three days he thought, and not a clock
could rival with his tick. The third day he sat up straight,
and his back did give a creak,
he said,
"I think I must agree, for my arms have grown quite weak.
My eyes are blackened from the iron,
my skin and teeth are too. So though I am
reluctant to say, I must agree with you."

The decision made, the men decided
to pool among them their money, and divided;
taking equal shares of wealth, and not forgetting
to bid each other good health, the three men did part
and forever more
left their memories of goodness at a crossroad
of four.

II.

But the service of the three old men
did not end so quick and sure. They travelled
for many long years more, and their hearts
and eyes grew
cold and distant from the Lord.
Five years passed and the long, winding,
and dangerous roads each man had taken
all led them straight to a large white door.
The large white door belonged
to a large white house
with large white windows and lights.
Inside, Heavenly music played
and welcoming aromas soared. The three
old men were hungry, tired, and sore. Vagabonds;
lost and poor.
The carpenter, an honest man, stared
sadly at the door.
The baker sniffed hopefully at the meal sailing through
the night air, and the blacksmith
couldn't take it anymore.

"Listen friends," he said
"We've got nothing to lose,
only to gain,
by walking through this door. Whoever owns
this lovely house, surely won't mind our company.
For company is even better, when company
comes in three."

"Barging in is not polite," the baker argued, though
half-heartedly. His stomach had grown larger than his heart,
however,
and he added:
"But surely with this room and light,
the owner will accept us in, and even if we
must beg, surely he will give us
the scraps from his table."

The carpenter liked this idea, for though he was a good
and noble man of wood, his stomach knew better than his head
that if he did not eat tonight, tomorrow he might be dead.

The plan completed, the men agreed
that it would be best to sell the truth:
that they were tired, hungry, and in need
of food and sheler
from the dark cold night.
The carpenter rang the bell and waited, but the
owner had not hesitated. The merry door swung
in wide,
and all three men stepped softly inside.
The halls were white, every painting too;
and before them stood a man
of impossible height and
a small, slight
frame.
He held a mirror in his hand, a smile on his face.
He too was white--
pure white--
from his hair to his grin to his feet--
And his voice was musical and sweet. He led them in
and let them sit
at a table fit for kings.
They were given wine, and pork, and beef--
and all the finer things.
Their wild hair was trimmed, their clothing mended
and made grand. Until all three men looked young
again,

though the blacksmith remained black
and the baker fat
and the carpenter small and humble.

The white man with his mirror said,
"I hope you have enjoyed your meal.
No better thing could have been brought,
as I have made sure around the world
that no one eats better than you three
tonight."

"That's impossible," the baker laughs, and shakes his merry head.
"To do that you would be as a god, and there
are none of them."

"Are you so sure?" the white man whispered,
a snake's tongue curling from his teeth.
He held his little mirror up, and up from underneath
the table vines appeared and held the men.
The blacksmith watched in fascination as the
baker began to shriek and dance, for his vines were covered in thorns.
"The scorn you have shown your Lord
has made it easier for me to find you,
though some might say that from the very first day
I had already caught you."

"No, this can't be right," the carpenter shouted
"I have been good, pious, and devoted!"

"You indeed have lived life correctly,
and perhaps your God will forgive you. He is
kind, in that way, but the ones I catch--
they always stay.
The baker, who was frivolous and trite,
and the blacksmith whose hands
strayed too far from his own purse;
they are mine and no one else's,
and that has been sure since their birth."
And then Mephistoles stood, and walked about the table.
His cold hands laid first on the blacksmith, who
shuddered with sickness and became
blacker and blacker until he was merely a dark
and dirty sillouhette. He laid his hand
on the baker next
and the man turned white as flour.

"Oh you weary Godless men
who have wandered to my door.
You would not had travelled for very long
if your hearts had remained more pure.

Oh you weary Godless men
I have given you shelter and pleasure
and all the things you do adore. Simple things that
all honest men would do rightly to abhor.
And yet all these pleasures might have been eternal
if you had not come knocking at my door.

Oh you weary Godless men
there is no saving for you now.
You have lost your light and turned instead
to something false;
Hell's will-o-wisp,
of lust and forgetfulness,
which leads all weary,
Godless men astray and down the path
that takes them away from Salvation and

into my Eternal Damnation."