Delicate Truth dressed in the beautiful clothes,
To the pitiful, orphans, and cripples to bring some delight.
Coarse Lie this Truth to its home once lures
Like: hey, why donít you stay with me overnight!
And trusting Truth went to sleep like a baby,
Drooling and smiling happily in her dreams.
Sneaky selfish Lie for herself pulled the blanket,
Bit into the Truth and, till quite satisfied, had her fill.
Lie then got up and made ugly faces -
Woman like woman, nothing special here to behold?!
There isnít any difference visible between them,
Of course, thatís if you view them in nude, Iím told.
Golden ribbons from braids were cunningly taken,
Lie took Truthís attire - such as luck that it happened to fit.
She took her watch and money, along with any id she may need.
Lie, maliciously spitting, roughly cursed, and finally split.
It was in the morning when Truth realized what was stollen
And surprised, she looked at herself, business-like, -
Someone already somewhere got hold of the black tar,
Smeared clean Truth, but it could have been worse.
Truth kept laughing when they threw at her stones
- itís all Lie, and what she wears is my own clothes!...
Two "blessed" policemen1 were making reports
All the while cursing Truth with a string of bad words.
Bitch they called her, and worse than bitch
They smeared her with tar, sicked the dogs after the witch.
So there wouldnít be a trace of her stay,
She is to be evicted, sent away within a day.
That report ended with the hurtful tirade
(By the way, Truth was charged with extra, if not her own, offense):
They say, some scum calls herself Truth,
But she got so drunk that she awoke in the nude.
Naked Truth wept, swore her innocence, denied accusations,
For a long time, she was sick, vagabond, penniless.
Meanwhile, dirty Lie having a thoroughbred stollen,
Galloped away on the Arabianís long and thin legs.
Some odd-ball till this day still fights for Truth, -
Although, his speeches, they carry little worth.
- Pure Truth, the time of her triumph will be certain to come,
If only she dared all that bold-faced Lie has done.
Frequently, sharing a bottle with brothers,
You wonít even know where youíll crash for the night.
You might lose your clothes - this is pure truth, friends!
Lo and behold, your pants are worn by the underhanded Lie,
Lo and behold, your watch tells time to the treacherous Lie,
Lo and behold, your noble steed carries the insidious Lie.