Failed Conscience
Many know of Pinnochio, a boy-puppet made of wood,
and Jimminee Cricket, his appointed conscience-of-good.
The puppet desired for his wooden flesh to be real.
The cost to transform: he mustn't lie, cheat or steal.
An uttered untruth would cause his twig-nose to lengthen.
His moral fiber was of course the crickets to strengthen.
The indignant conscience would jump up and down,
and shout "Be A Real Boy!" his mouth forming a frown.
But...
Pinocchio the puppet skipped along,
never caring that his nose grew long.
He'd just give it a trim when it seemed out of place,
He'd just give it a trim when it seemed out of place,
so no-one could see any flaw with his face.
But Jiminee Cricket could see his sin,
But Jiminee Cricket could see his sin,
and feared for the peril his soul was in.
The cricket could tell when his nose had been cut;
The cricket could tell when his nose had been cut;
knowledge of that put a wretch in his gut.
The puppet decided to quicken his pace,
The puppet decided to quicken his pace,
seeing no need to bring light his disgrace.
Jiminee continued his repetitive song,
Jiminee continued his repetitive song,
for silence would bring his pupil to wrong.
Pinocchio demanded the bug let him be;
Pinocchio demanded the bug let him be;
he'd never asked for Jiminee.
The Crick it refused to fall behind;
The Crick it refused to fall behind;
his insistence more urgent became less than kind.
Fed up with his conscience, Pinocchio turned on his heel;
Fed up with his conscience, Pinocchio turned on his heel;
a painful reward sent his conscience to reel.
This reaction of wood was nothing new,
This reaction of wood was nothing new,
once Pinocchio determined to bid any adieu.
No excuse was offered nor apology heard
No excuse was offered nor apology heard
as Jiminee searched for the reason his failure occurred.
Dejected, the cricket's lost faith took it's toll;
Dejected, the cricket's lost faith took it's toll;
darkness descended upon his lost soul.
Then he turned to his maker for the answers he craved,
Then he turned to his maker for the answers he craved,
and woodn't you know it, a new path was paved.
Forgiveness would light the road as he tread;
Forgiveness would light the road as he tread;
all was not lost' all was not dead.
New doll's are whittled with each passing day;
New doll's are whittled with each passing day;
they may need someone to show them his way.
His previous methods he chose to forsake;
His previous methods he chose to forsake;
force wood not be a repeated mistake.
The new chirp emitted: a more pleasant sound,
The new chirp emitted: a more pleasant sound,
and pupils a-plenty were lost and then found.
There-to all things do work out in the end;
There-to all things do work out in the end;
just not necessarily the way we intend.
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