An Artful Liar…

No not a flier,

Have in the distant past, though, been a town crier,

I have been told I lie like an expensive rug,

If one does lie enough, your grave you have already dug,

Hey, you’ve lied too; don’t look at me so smug…

I have lied my balls off,

As well as through my teeth,

Don’t you at me pompously scoff,

At least I can admit to the spell of the devil I am underneath…

To be a liar is to develop the art,

Of this I could be a professor and teach it in part,

But truly deep down inside in my heart of hearts,

I try most of the time to never lie right from the start…

A club I should hereby put together,

To sign into the club one would have to attain a feather,

Yes a quill to use rather than a present day pen,

It would not matter if you were good or bad or whatever,

As long as when it matters most, a liar you can be,

That in itself would have to be the clubs fervent decree…

          © ed ~ 7/19/05