In A Past Life

In a past life, I had some other job. 

Not a computer programmer, that's for sure. 

I doubt I was the leader of a mob. 

I'd hate to think I was a stuck-up snob! 

But fortunately my past lives are obscure, 

Wonderfully lost somewhere in the mists of history, 

Without hypnosis, doomed to remain a mystery, 

And that's a good thing - it means I cannot regret - 

I cannot recall, and analyze, and fret 

Over what I did wrong through all those lives. 

Perhaps I was a sharpener of knives, 

That would have appealed to my conscientious side, 

Putting a glistening edge on tools gone dull, 

Singing while working, keeping my own heart full, 

Making up words for tunes the world supplied.