Tongue with a fork, will never speak true

A bird with one wing will never fly

A knife with no edge will never cut through

Without effort, there is no try.

A one track mind will always think the same way

A man with no love in his heart has no soul

A crooked arrow will always fly the wrong way

Never on target, out of control.

The old Indian Chief was blind and could not hear

But he could tell what was around, dark or light

He could smell death and he knew fear

Sunshine or darkness, to him it was always night.

A wise old man, chief of his kingdom

He knew where everything was, without sight

The tribe followed him because of his wisdom

The blind leading the seeing into the night.