I wear no wizard’s pointy hat
But keep a cauldron and a cat
And cook up spells that don’t pan out.
Though poor and ugly, I’ve no doubt
That with the right ingredients
My endless toil and great expense
Will win me fortune, fame and gold…
They’re tasty too (or so I’m told).
My snake’s head is adorned with plumes
And like a flower, all round it blooms
Upon my pyramidal shrine.
I got drunk on agave wine
Persuaded by the Mirror of Smoke
And did the deed, but when I woke
My brother was the Jaguar,
And I become the Morning Star.
I drag my teeth to bite, expose
And cultivate in long, straight rows,
The basket where you grow your bread.
Unceasingly I plod ahead
With strength and torque and creeping pace.
I take the sturdy oxen’s place
Requiring neither grass nor grain
And being much simpler to maintain.
I stood there with my microphone
Showcasing prizes for your home
And asking what you’d like to bid.
Thirty-five years that’s what I did
And took a little time each day
To spread the word and have my say,
Encouraging the entire nation
To help control the pet population.
My brother shares my full genome.
He takes a trip and comes back home
Still young, though I am old and gray.
“Well, that makes sense,” I start to say,
“Due to the constant speed of light
Your clock moved slower in my sight.”
“How strange,” he says, “for I saw you,
And from my viewpoint, yours did too.”
Although my master was disguised,
Alone of all I recognized
Him, wagged my tail and pricked my ears,
And having waited twenty years,
I saw the teardrop in his eye,
And so at last laid down to die,
On flea-infested piles of dung—
In his long song my name is sung.