To whoever will find this note I left,
'Tis certain I am dead and not so quick.
Be still, and sit inside your cleft,
As I read to you my fable thick.
So hearken! For here begins my tale.
A young lad I was. I was in a clique.
And over my face, I pull a veil.
Behold! That I was very sick.
So sick, that from the earth did I sail.