Fool's Song Poem by Jan Struther

You shall have roast peacock
For your mid-day meat;
But the bitter Fool's Parsley
Is all that I shall eat.
You shall have rare sauces
Your hunger to whet;
But the wild Clown's Mustard
Is all that I shall get.
You shall have church bells
When you wed your dear;
But the bells on my own cap
Are all that I shall hear.
You shall live with wise men,
Wantonly or well,
And go to Wise Man's Heaven
Or to Wise Man's Hell;
But in Fool's Paradise
You shall never dwell.