The Beast of Burden

In the dark woods somewhere, there once lived a beast.
None could recognize his land or race.
He would harm no one, strolling as he pleased,
Yet some thought his stroll was out of place.
Other wildlife, with sharp teeth like knives,
Raging from their wilderness and boredom,
With their anger and hate for unknown life,
Called the beast their Beastie of Burden.
Leader Fox, so sad, charged large fees to tread
Roads to carry loads from the borders,
His cops told the beast, letting Fox have feasts,
“Work for little pay, obey his orders.”
Thus, the peaceful beast had become the least
In a crowd of other fragile mortals,
Though chief Fox had said, “Your life won’t be mist,
As your work for us is too important.”
Our gentle beast, he would not resist,
He would hope that no one else could hurt him.
He was honored soon.  Helping him exist,
Fox decided he should not be burdened
By new loads of food.  Fox thus understood
How the Beast is valuable and worthy.
Well, some time has passed, and the Beast was blessed
To become a hero of the forest.
“Make our land the best!  You must work and fast!”
Fox’s friends recited this new chorus.
Yet the Beast then roared, screaming “Nevermore!”
Such an apocalypse, full of tricks,
Tails and backs of all friends of our Fox he tore.
“He’s the Beast six hundred sixty six.”
They then screamed.  “He is that one, for sure.”
They then chased him away to a valley of mess,
Filled with snakes, where he fell, feeling sore.

Toiler Fox won’t rest, as his friends were blessed
Not to pay new taxes or feel boredom!
Since the foe in that valley now peacefully rests.
No more fuss from our Beast of Burden!

To our souls he could not find a password,
He is but an invalid, dumb migrant,
And his forest has such a weak passport.
To correct him we do need a tyrant.