I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said—“Son, this world is rough, and if a
Man’s gonna make it he’s gotta be tough.”
So I knocked him down to the dirt and sand,
Then drew my gun and sneered with cold command—
For I knew that snake was my own sweet dad
From a worn out picture my mother had,
Knew that scar on his cheek and his mocking hand—

“My name is Sue! How do you do? Now you despair!”
Shattered, he claimed that my name made me strong,
Called me his son then stood up to atone.
My enmity vanished. His words were fair,
And we parted as friends. Ponder his wrong:
He named a boy Sue and then left him alone.