The Scapegoat

Come, Omar, why didst Thou write thy Book?

Thou didst divert me frum the Fishing hook.

     I sat me ‘neath the Bough thy lines to Read

And plum forgot there was eke Trout or Brook!

And when I wandered home, devoid of Game,

She asked me where I’d been in Heaven’s name,

     That I no Fish had brought her Taste to Please;

I could but answer: “Omar were to Blame”.

April 28, ‘09

(a fair assumption, based partly on style, is that ‘Omar’ is Omar Khayyam)