Marco the Magnificent
He was named Marco the Magnificent on the day he was born, a very apt name you could tell.
Though he could not yet talk, with a wave of his hand, he could summon his wants with a spell.
Not like witches would brew in a cauldron filled through with all sorts of mysterious things.
But with thoughts of great charms and a movement of arms, he’d produce gifts that were fit for kings.
As Marco grew older his creations got bolder and requests he accepted were great
“Make a toy”, “Make me strong”, “Make me write a new song”. “Make me anything quick I can’t wait.”
And he did, make it all, whether big or quite small, and charged such a minimal price.
For he was just a kid and enjoyed what he did and for all, he just acted quite nice.
But then came the day, he was twenty they say, that a man came to him and did tell.
You make trinkets for all, but for me, come this Fall, I want armies and weapons as well.
For I plan to use power, make this country cower, and become the new king of the land.
Let them all bow to me, let them beg, let them plea, let them worship the ground where I stand.
Marco, kind though he was, he did not like this cause, this man had an evil desire.
Should he do as was told, or refuse and be bold, he stood still and began to perspire.
But the man sensing fear knew that victory was near, as he pulled out a very sharp knife.
The man he did gloat, the knife to Marco’s throat, “Give me all that I ask or your life”
Marco thought good and hard, as he played his last card, “I will do as you ask” he explained.
He’d come up with a plan, the man loosened his hand, and then Marco he felt less restrained
With a thought in his head, he broke loose and then said, as his hand pointed down to the ground.
“You’ll have armies galore, and great strength on the floor, as you crawl as an ant and get crowned.”
And so it was done, not that it was much fun, his joy to create had now gone
Creating’s no thrill when it’s things that can kill, and you’re asked to do things that are wrong.
Now Marco is old and the truth can be told that he doesn’t cast spells anymore.
He just sits in his home and rarely does roam, where he lives by himself near the shore.
Marco the Lame is his only used name, which he feels now suits him quite well
For he cares not for fame, it was only a game, till it got to be more than a spell.
When you do things for less, there are those that will guess, you are easy to trick, They are cruel.
Though it’s better to let them deserve what they get, best do nothing, and don’t be their tool.
So take care all you folk, for this tale is no joke, teach your child when quite young to beware
And before someone dies, just like Marco be wise, and do not create things from thin air.
