Mrs. Bachtel

You might not want to believe a dreamer. Never believe a schemer.

You must have wanted to believe
the ugly words she whispered,
the yarn she spun with ardor.
Why is that? No truth resided in her.

Like serpent of old, she flicked her tongue
hissed her story, told her tale.
Crawled on her belly, just how you like them.
She could count on that every time.

You wanted your birthright,
did you really believe you had one?
Did she conjure up visions of gold
or land with lush pastures and rainbows?

You were willing to slay brother,
slander sister, rob your neighbor.
What else did she offer with sloe gin,
to make you leader of the pack?

So here you are again, no inheritance,
no gain, where she tossed you, you remain
like another of her throwaways.
Don't you know, silly boy? She lied.