Everything

Everything

There once was a girl named Mary,
Who thought she knew everything.

She knew math and science, history, law,
And she knew how to sing.

But then an owl, a wise old owl,
Told her that she knew naught.

And Mary, she retorted,
With a temper growing hot:

“You’re just an owl, an old owl,
Who thinks he’s very wise,

But you’re a fool, an old gray fool,
And a braggart, in my eyes.”

“That may be true,” replied the bird,
Ever so patiently.

“But do you know how many birds fly,
Or how many fish swim in the sea?

How many stars are there in the sky?
How fast does the red fox fly?

What’s the dove saying, as he lets out a coo?
How many women does a young lover woo?

How many ocean waves crash on the beach?
What is the length of an emperor’s reach?

How many lies are lies that ring true?
How far is it to Timbuktu?"

The owl then stopped, and looked at Mary,
Who was indeed very shaken.

For she had just discovered,
That she had been mistaken.

For although she could read, and write, and sing,
Mary did not know everything.