Lear had a story to tell,
A tale about himself.
But first he had to find a role,
On himself to cast a spell.
He chose to be a suffering king,
Forsaken by his kids;
Tossed out into a storm
And all such manner of things.
His cat was devoid of any tales
And fancied she was only a cat.
Life itself was good enough,
Beside which Lear’s vanity pales.
