Let us consider the living of Bean.
No different from all of us, know what I mean?
Bean discerned early the life on the pole;
decided he then that he wanted control!
In spite of the wish, the yearn and the plea
from cousins with shiners, and his brother three,
instead of residing there, safe on the stalk,
he said "Adios!" and started his walk.
Some knowledge came quickly while out on his own.
Within days, he noticed that he hadn't grown!
"It be of no consequence!" said he to he,
"This new independence is greater to me!
No longer reliant...to nobody bound...
how many more pleasures are here to be found?"
Soon, he was carousing with tare and with chaff.
There, in the briers, they'd party and laugh.
Now, dreams of the garden recalled he of Heaven.
"Oh what a rush would be 5% Sevin!"
The loss of the stem was more notable now:
his vigor diminished...now wrinkled his brow.
In realization now of such a trap,
and though every stress nearly causing him 'snap,'
with the sun high...such just made him conceited
and, unto returning, he'd not be conceded.
And there, among thistles, expire did he
for living not horticulturally.
A marker is there at the sight he did fall,
with epitaph timely unto each and all:
"Remaining here be just a vacated shell.
Bean isn't here now, for he is in Hell."