This was origianlly by Aesop, but Paul Roche made it into a poem.
Had been going on
for several weeks.
Yes the goose actually laid golden eggs:
Huge nuggets smooth as wax
and heavy as lead.
The man and his Wife went down on their knees
and thanked Hermes
For having so rewarded their years
of poverty and piety...
"But we could do with a bigger house,"
Said the Wife. "Of course,"
The man replied..
And after a few more days
and a few more golden eggs,
They both said,
"Why not servants and a carriage?...
Then there's that dowry for our daughters marraige."
Soon the golden eggs could hardly keep pace
With the couple's galloping desires.
They became rapicious
And gave themselves airs.
"We must have money," was the wife's cry.
"Put pepper in the goose's mash: perhaps
It will then lay two at a time...
I need a new costume.
Then one day the Wife
nudged her man with terrible gleam in her eye.
"Cut it open," She said, cold:
"It's and enormous Bird,
And full of gold."
"I can't," He said.
So she put in his hands a knife.
"Go on," she said:
"I owe the dressmaker, the hairdresser, the grocer
The chemist, the wine shop, the jeweler...
We simply must have more money-
Or do you want me to borrow?"
"All right," He said, "But it's damnable."
So he laid the goose on the kitchen table,
Stunned it and opened it up.
Then he gave a great booming laugh, dismally unfunny.
"My dear, you'll never guess,"
He said, and his tears of rage frustration and sorrow
Broke in like a flood.
"There's nothing Inside the goose
But ordinary flesh and blood."