A little ditty:


Don't Ask For Bread


A wretched man walked up and down
To buy his dinner in the town.

At last he found a wretched place
And entered in with modest grace,

Took off his coat, took off his hat,
And wiped his feet upon the mat,

Took out his purse to count his pence
And found he had but two half-cents.

The bill of fare, he scanned it through
To see what two half-cents would do.

The only item of them all
For two half-cents was one fishball.

So to the waiter he did call
And gently whispered: One fishball.

The waiter bellowed down the hall:
THIS GENTLEMAN HERE WANTS ONE FISHBALL.

The diners looked both one and all
To see who wanted one fishball.

The wretched man, all ill at ease
Said: A little bread, sir, if you please.

The waiter bellowed down the hall:
WE DON'T SERVE BREAD WITH ONE FISHBALL.

The wretched man, he felt so small,
He quickly left the dining hall.

The wretched man, he went outside
And shot himself until he died.

This is the moral of it all,
Don't ask for bread with one fishball.


(Anon)