Once when The King Akbar

Was having a walk in his park,

He suddenly fell on his belly

While the others had awful remarks.

He stepped on the wet soil

And that's why he fell,

The feeling was frustrating

Who upon he should yell.

So he called the poor gardener

And stated that the wet soil,

Was his careless work's result

He's the reason everything has spoilt.

He did nothing intentionally

But spoilt Akbar's plans,

So he was captured in the dungeons

With the thieves and their clans.

Akbar announced his execution

And left him aghast,

While Birbal alone talked to him

They planned something very fast.

The next day before the hanging

The gardener went to the King,

He spat on the king's expensive shoes

Still scared he was shivering.

Akbar boiling all with anger

Asked the reason "WHY?"

But instead of the gardener

The court echoed with Birbal's cry.

"Your Majesty!" He cried loudly

"I know what he meant,

He just saved the king's pride

Before to the heavens he'll be sent."

"Today all the kingdom is curious

For the reason to execute this man,

But no one ever had one

So he just gave you one for your plan."

"As he thinks that your name should

Always stand with justice,

He did something worth execution

That's all he meant. Isn't it?"

Akbar realised his mistake suddenly

And cancelled the hanging,

While the gardener couldn't stop

His hearty and great Thanksgiving

So that's how 'The Clever Birbal'

Proved himself the smartest of all,

And with his great skills, he won

The hearts of the crowd in the hall.

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Poet's Note