Ballade [The goat scratches so much it can't sleep]

The goat scratches so much it can't sleep 
The pot fetches water so much it breaks 
You heat iron so much it reddens 
You hammer it so much it cracks 
A man's worth so much as he's esteemed 
He's away so much he's forgotten 
He's bad so much he's hated 
We cry good news so much it comes.

You talk so much you refute yourself 
Fame's worth so much as its perquisites 
You promise so much you renege 
You beg so much you get your wish 
A thing costs so much you want it 
You want it so much you get it 
It's around so much you want it no more 
We cry good news so much it comes.

You love a dog so much you feed it 
A song's loved so much as people hum it
A fruit is kept so much it rots 
You strive for a place so much it's taken
You dawdle so much you miss your chance 
You hurry so much you run into bad luck 
You grasp so hard you lose your grip 
We cry good news so much it comes.

You jeer so much nobody laughs 
You spend so much you've lost your shirt
You're honest so much you're broke
"Take it" is worth so much as a promise 
You love God so much you go to church 
You give so much you have to borrow 
The wind shifts so much it blows cold 
We cry good news so much it comes.

Prince a fool lives so much he grows wise 
He travels so much he returns home 
He's beaten so much he reverts to form 
We cry good news so much it comes.

From The Poems of François Villon translated by Galway Kinnell, published by Houghton Mifflin, © 1965. Reprinted with permission of the publisher.