Literature
The Bleeding Ibis
That one summer has gone,
From long ago
When the ibis sat in the bleeding tree.
Its wonders have faded,
Its bark has dried up,
And a block of grindstone now stands in its place,
Where the bleeding tree once stood.
I remember the time
Long ago
When the bleeding tree still lived,
And my only brother-type was born.
I was six at the time,
When my brother was born
And my life was filled with joy.
When I first saw my brother,
It was quite an odd site
For he was mostly all head,
Deformed at birth.
My family started crying
They thought he would die,
Even though he was born in a caul.
So we built him a coffin
And named him Willi