Oysen and His Whistle by Shamik Banerjee

Many many years ago,
a Boy named Oysen used to blow a Penny whistle in the land of Arlowar
and on the strand of Its wide sea.
His tunes could tame a- nything:
maelstrom, windstorm, flame, a- ny beast.
Once, a nixie blessed him
With this gift but did request him
Not to ever overuse it
And, for self-greed, not to choose it;
Otherwise, his special power
Would keep dropping every hour.
Greedy Oysen did not listen To her,
and out of huge frisson,
Used the blessing for what he sought:
Trapping tigers.
A few he caught To make money.
Soon, one day, this Magic died, which took away his Specialness.
Oysen lamented. This was not what he had wanted.
Fortune also served him badly:
Things were well, then one day (sadly),
Out of nowhere, a minotaur Stormed the village of Arlowar.
Helpless boy, he tried to tame it,
But he failed to.
Such a shame!
It Wolfed down each man.
Oysen tried to Break free from it, but he died too.
So, my dearest lads and lasses,
Mind this fable as time passes
So that you don’t live like Oysen.
Greed destroyed him.
Greed is poison.