Harif and the Lion

All men are born of the womb Some grow old Some die from the burden and gloom One day there begot a man named Harif Who would rise above every evil demon Battling the great lion until either ones death Now Harif was man with impeccable style He served his Sophia, with devotion awhile Battling the lion, where battles became red Or white, depending on the whims of whom told or said For Sophia demanded, only the finest Harif, why his devotion was Nuwas refinedest As dinner was served to Sophia and friends That old lion was dreaming of his own meal to the end One wrong step too many and old Harif would be severed On a plate with old port which the lion felt he too deserved Harif knew, for after all that wine, still not a fool He conquered the lion, not with sword but a laugh or maybe two Now Harif sure knew the power of flowers and wine He conquered so many, the lion and corrupted times He used the same procedure year after year You see, that’s why his Sophia loved him so dear When she finally retired to her boudoir of red Poor Harif, sighed, cause of the pain in his dear head!