OTHER SKETCHES
A retelling of the parable of the rich fool. This can be read straight by a narrator, divided into parts with a Narrator, Farmer, Doctor and Wife or dramatised as a mime. The trouble about the parables is that they have become so familiar that they fail to shock. This one seemed to get the message home when we did it in Church.
A wealthy man was Farmer Clarke
Who worked his land from dawn to dark.
He never paused to take a breather,
And wouldn't let his workforce either.
"Riches are the fruit of toil,
So buckle down and work the soil."
"Never, " he vowed, "will I be poor,
And die in debt, like Dad before."
Driven by a mania to be successful,
His life style was extremely stressful.
"Relax, slow down!" his doctor pleaded.
But his advice remained unheeded.
"The time for rest is when I'm rich,
So give me something to ease this stitch."
His farm grew huge, his wealth increased;
From other farmers barns he leased
To store his growing hill of grain.
And anxiously he taxed his brain,
How to expand his storage space
As his wheat mountain grew apace,
Till finally there came a season
Of harvest vast beyond all reason.
At night he tossed upon his bed
Thinking and planning in his head,
Denying sleep to his poor spouse
Who grumbled: "You'll wake the house,
If you insist on ranting on
With plans and problems till past one.
Take a pill - give me some sleep,
Or go outside and count your sheep."
A stroll at night might clear my head,"
So saying he leapt out of bed,
And round his farmyard made a tour.
"Aha!, he thought, "another floor
In these three barns will do the trick -
And having done that I will stick.
No more will I get up at three;
Abroad I'll go and learn to ski.
I'll take my ease. I'll have a ball -
Throw parties, host dances in my hall.
I'll hire a chef, a butler too
And four smart footmen clad in blue.
I'll trade my tractor for a Rolls;
Join a club for golf and bowls;
Book a Caribbean cruise;
Bet on horses, win or lose.
I will join the playboy set;
Keep a borzoi for a pet.
I've earned my rest - it's time for me.
Let others toil from dawn till tea."
He gave a yawn, "I'll hit the hay.
Sweet dreams will help me on my way."
© Copyright Don Dowling October 2001
He nodded off to dream of pleasure
Now he'd provided for his leisure.
Asleep he seemed to hear a voice
Sounding a message far from choice.
"Fool, you fool," he heard God say,
You've wasted life too long for play.
One thing you lack despite your wealth -
Wisdom to consider your soul's health.
Success and money have held you blind.
They have filled your heart and mind.
But they'll not help you where you're bound
They perish with you in the ground.
Tonight you answer for your life -
Your goods will go now to your wife.
And she will have quite different schemes,
Which scarce have entered in your dreams."
The sands ran out with Clarke abed.
At dawn the rich man woke up dead.