Three things there be that prosper up apace <br />And flourish, whilst they grow asunder far, <br />But on a day, they meet all in one place, <br />And when they meet, they one another mar; <br />And they be these: the wood, the weed, the wag. <br />The wood is that which makes the gallow tree; <br />The weed is that which strings the hangman's bag; <br />The wag, my pretty knave, betokeneth thee. <br />Mark well, dear boy, whilst these assemble not, <br />Green springs the tree, hemp grows, the wag is wild, <br />But when they meet, it makes the timber rot, <br />It frets the halter, and it chokes the child. <br /> Then bless thee, and beware, and let us pray <br /> We part not with thee at this meeting day.<br /><br />Sir Walter Raleigh<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sir-walter-raleigh-to-his-son/
