The Piper and The Flute
In a town, Lived a young man, Merry and Cherish, The airy man with his airy tales, The airy man with his classy jokes. A freak with no worries The calendar was simply turning its pages. The calendar was simply turning its pages. Turning and turning, Then, came a Piper to that town. A Piper with his flute. Was he Mozart's reborn? O the melodious tune he played. O the melodious tune he played, The audience like a flock of sheep, They waited for the Piper, They waited for the flute. Everyone, except the young man. But, where was the young man? But, Where was the young man? The young man was the same, Same airy with his airy tales, No care, for the flute. No care, for the Piper. His calendar was turning its pages. His calendar was turning its pages. The Piper, who was long been watching him. The Piper, who was long been ignored by him. One day met the young man at the marketplace. The Piper met him. The Piper met the young man. The Piper met the young man. "What do you do, O young man, Always so cherish and cool, Airy and blowing Tell me, young man, Don't you like my music?" The Piper asked and waited for the reply. The Piper asked and waited for the reply. "No honorable Piper, I appreciate your music, But I prefer the one- That touches the soul For the music always depends upon musician." The young man replied. The young man replied. The Piper than played his flute. Played a tune, unheard before. A tune of sorrow, a tune of grief. The young man patiently listened this time. Thus the music made them introduced. Thus the music made them introduced. The very next day, The Piper met the young man again. At the same marketplace, And requested for a tea talk. The young man joined the company. The calendar smiled that day. The calendar smiled that day. The young man found a new person for his airy tales. The Piper found a new audience. Thus, began their friendship. The Piper passionately listened to his tales. The smiling calendar was turning its pages. The smiling calendar was turning its pages. The closeness they shared, Fine memories they had. The young man, blown by the tune of the flute. The Piper, blown by the young man's tales. A perfect fraternity. The calendar was turning its pages. The calendar was turning its pages. The Piper, flute and the young man, All cherish and merry. Together they roamed. But, who knew the sands of time? The Piper had to shift from the town. The Piper had to shift from the town. "Don't you go, O Piper" Cried the young man. "I shall be alone. Don't you go, O Piper" Cried the young man. Cried the young man. But, it happens, what's written in the starlight. What's written in the lines of your palm? The young man now all alone. The flute and the music had gone, The Piper had gone. The Piper had gone. The young man so grieved. Searched, for the Piper everywhere. The Piper, his friend at the vicinity. Now gone. The calendar is still turning its pages. The calendar is still turning its pages. The Piper and the flute, both are gone. And the young man stands silent. The smiling calendar is still turning its pages. So, the story was untold, But who can stop the pen?