Presumptuous

Once in every blue moon,
The piper plays his mystique tune;
His notes have charm, they say,
The piper knows how to catch his prey.

He is young, but not foolish,
His eyes on that one Big Fish;
He puts himself on as bait,
And by the riverside he stands in wait.

He knows that she’d come,
Come what may, she’d come;
His magic had never failed him,
Fulfilling his every desire, each whim.

So the piper keeps playing his tune,
Hoping to find his mistress soon.

But tonight, something was wrong,
Dark it was, it now seemed long;
Midnight was past, but no one came,
The hours were silent, the hours were same.

And the piper, he was but man,
Cursed it all, himself, and his bungled plan;
And as he moved away from that shore,
He heard his tune from the night before.

Had a new piper come to town?
His displeasure was great, so was his frown;
But then the piper smiled, he said with a grin,
Old roots must eventually make way, for Green.