Now frantic, the old man awoke 

To see Death by his bed; 

Somehow he sensed a difference 

And knew that he was dead. 

He feared not, Death, and took control 

As he had of others; 

Penurious and arrogant, 

Cheating children, Mothers.

Always greedy and with no love,

Daily grew his Treasure; 

Gold and jewels he had hoarded 

Were his only pleasure.

“Aha, sad Death, you sneaking Fiend 

You think the likes of me 

Would lie asleep, an easy prey 

For you, a Victory?”

Death hooded as a Penitent 

So slowly shook his head, 

The old man took encouragement 

With spite and bluster said;

“I hear church bells in the distance, 

Toll, ringing out for me.” 

But once again, Death shook his head, 

“The bells toll not for thee.”

“But I hear a choir singing, 

Most surely, ‘tis for me.” 

Now vehement, Death stated loud 

“No, none do sing for thee!” 

“I say I hear them praying now, 

With utmost piety, 

They must mourn my passing greatness.” 

“No. Not one prayer for thee.”

“The man they mourn, ne’er knew a day 

Of slight prosperity, 

A simple farmer, yet he shared 

With all; gave charity. 

Whereas you, took from all Souls— 

From every Soul you knew, 

Loving, Peace, and Understanding 

And so a Dark Tree grew. 

So now ‘tis my unpleasant task,

And saying so, Death swung his Scythe 

And cut the robber free.