The Kings Fool Poem by Darlene Walsh

Cold Nice Hot Cool
Four seasons for the fool
Words of nonsense are his tool
Spilling from his mouth like drool

Winter Spring Summer Fall
Stories come great and small
From memory strong total recall
Hidden secrets are flung at them all

None worry what he speaks
Till aimed at them fling his cheeks
Concealed in dribble come his tweaks
To stab their honor his phrases seek

Buried deep and solid truth
Fool has found them through sleuth
Revealing to those with ears in sooth
Things they have done since their youth

Things that they in secret kept
Truth is revealed to the adept
Out from under rug they are swept
Errors to be denied or must they accept