A man fell in his well one day
And raised a panicked cry.
"Great God! Come take me from this well,
For I don't want to die!"
Nobody heard his manic pleas.
Nobody came to aid
This man who'd fallen in his well,
So in the well he stayed.
The birds above did twit and chirp,
Sing gaily from the tree,
While underneath the stricken man
Did scream, "Someone save me!"
The day drew on to evening time,
The evening on to night,
And hunger pangs within him grew,
And with them grew his fright.
The morning came. The birds took up
Again their ceaseless song,
Before the man did spy a way
To right his self-made wrong.
Within the frigid water-pail
He'd mourned for lack of Love,
Before he'd thought to scale the rope
Which hoisted it above.
Then finally, weary of his plight,
His hands did seize the hemp,
And sinews steeled with hunger pains
Did break his squalid camp.
When he emerged thus from the well,
He turned to it and swore.
"May heaven blast you, wicked well!
I'll at your mouth no more!"
George Chadderdon © 1995