If I felt sure to live a full day longer Than that old rogue who keeps me sad and sighing, My gratitude to Christ would now be stronger; But I shall sooner learn the art of flying, Or see the mole of Genoa* split asunder By the assiduous butting of a goat: He’s plugged both ends so tight with all his plunder No chill can enter by his arse or throat. I mean my father, who finds more delight In bullying me than spirits of the blessed In seeing at last the face of God on high. Now hear how yesterday confirmed my plight: Doctor Taddeo saw him and confessed: “Only old age can kill him, then he’ll die.”
If I felt sure to live a full day longer Than that old rogue who keeps me sad and sighing, My gratitude to Christ would now be stronger; But I shall sooner learn the art of flying, Or see the mole of Genoa* split asunder By the assiduous butting of a goat: He’s plugged both ends so tight with all his plunder No chill can enter by his arse or throat. I mean my father, who finds more delight In bullying me than spirits of the blessed In seeing at last the face of God on high. Now hear how yesterday confirmed my plight: Doctor Taddeo saw him and confessed: “Only old age can kill him, then he’ll die.”