Et tu, Brute?

“Beware the Ides of March,” he heard.
Beware the fifteenth day.
But Caesar turned his back to that.
He brushed the fears away.

Calpurnia had warned him too;
she sensed it would go bad.
But he was such a know-it-all;
it made her feel so mad.

For Caesar was a man of strength,
he thought that he knew best.
He crossed the Rubicon and said,
“Hey, alea jacta est.”

Well, this did not sit well at all
with senators back home.
They couldn’t let this upstart be
the Emperor of Rome.

And we all know what happened next.
They did poor Caesar in.
He should have paid more heed, of course.
He should have just slept in.

Yes, hubris was his biggest fault,
a warning to us all.
But Caesar’s ego was immense,
as big as all of Gaul.

So Brutus led his merry band
and took poor Caesar’s life.
Hey, Caesar should have had more sense
and listened to his wife.

If she had gone instead of him
we’d have a different tale.
They couldn’t stab her hubby then.
Their nasty plot would fail.

And Caesar would have kept the throne
for every one to see.
And then he could say once again,
“Well, veni, vidi, vici.”