I have a page of loyal-renown
Who bends to all my desires,
Takes care of me, never tires,
Cleans and shines my laurel clown.

My page excels at his job:
He will neither eat nor sleep,
And writhes in pain when I keep
Long hours at work, or sob.

When I leave, the scoundrel dashes
And in my pocket appears;
When I return the dolt nears
To offer a cup of ashes.

When I wake at crack of dawn,
He's up and beside my bed;
When I write, the blood he's shed
Into my inkwell is drawn.

My page I can always count on,
Though he rattles as he walks,
Chills and warms the one he stalks:
My page is a skeleton.