The Tongue’s Tale

The tongue was locked in argument With its master’s hands and feet. Though none had his own armament, They could accomplish any feat. The hands had said they were the best, For they accomplished feats of might, While the eyes must always rest When comes the inky black of night. And the eyes, though they could see And guide the master on his way, It were the feet that set him free And led him on the paths of day. The ears chimed in, for they could hear To warn of dangers all around; They helped keep balance, helped to steer, Though they could not sense every sound. And so the master, guided by His feet and eyes and ears, had gone To visit then the King most high Who sat upon a mighty throne. The hands then placed a wager to The eye, the tongue, the ear, the sole, In order that each one could prove That he alone was powerful. The hands then punched through solid stone To prove to them his steely brawn, But unimpressed upon his throne, The King gave them a tired yawn. And so the ears then tried to test How greatly powerful were they, But better heard the dogs at rest, And so they lost the bet that day. The feet danced with impunity, And even had they almost won, But in their utter mutiny Would bow before the fluid tongue. The tongue had not the others’ might, And so went at the very end. And yet, she’d cast eternal night On enemy as well as friend. The tongue spoke just one word, and yet With terrifying, awful dread, The tongue then won the foolish bet; The King cut off the master’s head. The hands can lift up any stone, The feet can climb up any hill, And yet in power stand alone Our tongues, for with one word they kill.