Cow Swamy

 Since the ancient days of Stone Age

Beside the river, flourished a village.

Many lived and died within that sphere,

Several forgotten, while some were held dear

In this village, with its days long and balmy

Lived a man who went by the name Swamy

Devoid of duties, he wandered without a thought

“Spare me your time”, to the villagers he besought

Those who saw through, avoided him like a plague

The gullible obliged, though his intentions were vague

Perched on a rock, to those who listened he told his tales

Two truths and a lie, blended well like fine cocktail

Drunk on his tales, the crowd pondered to reward him how

It was then decided, to gift him a healthy cow

Swamy was pleased, the cow gave him plentiful milk

He served hot tea, to the listeners and for all of that ilk

His tales now turned fiery, and his crowd began to grow

He shouted and screamed - "the village needed to know"

The tales hit them hard, and the people did shudder

Hot tea kept brewing, milk flowing from tired udders

One morning while milking, he noticed a few drops of blood

Swamy kept going, the red discarded into the mud

Drained of its life, the poor cow gave up and chose to die

“It’s they who did it”, the man had no plans to stop his lies