YAHWEH’S MISDEAL
The Shrouded Spade
A Tavernous Tale of Hearts and Hustle
In a pub in Ireland where the stout did flow,
Sat Yahweh, a possum, and a boy we know.
The air was thick with laughter, a spirited sound,
While far off, a queen did her kingdom surround.
They played a game of Hearts, cards shuffled and dealt,
The smell of spirits and stories deeply felt.
Yahweh seemed invincible, a card-playing sage,
But suspicion arose, setting the pub’s mood to a stage.
The boy, now a man, called out, “Look yon, you see!
That Yahweh has hidden the Queen of Spades up his sleeve!”
The possum hissed softly, “Ah, that’s quite a ruse,”
The pub grew silent, awaiting Yahweh’s excuse.
Yahweh cleared his throat, looked up and then down,
“I confess, dear folk, I’ve been the fool of this town.
It’s not just in cards that a man can cheat,
But in life’s every lane, every challenge we meet.”
The crowd mumbled and hummed, what could this mean?
Then from the distance appeared the long-absent queen.
“Heartwork and self-worth,” she declared, “shine like a star,
But they shine all the brighter with support from afar.”
“So heed this, Yahweh, as you go on your way,
A life truly lived has no shortcuts to play.
For a support staff and rough rod make the journey complete,
And the heart that works hard will know no deceit.”
The pub burst into cheers, lessons learned and spirits high,
For even in deceit, we find truth by and by.
So here’s to heartwork, to self-worth, and to friends,
In an Irish pub where the story never ends.
