You asked for a wish,
I granted you three,
Then you passed me on,
A new master for me.
This terrible story,
Repeated in time,
Is where I’m stuck in prison,
For one single crime:
For I am a Genie,
Genie of the Lamp,
Bound to serve my masters,
Whether kings or tramps.
I'll give you my all,
Within reasonable demand:
I can't make people fall in love,
Or kill them with my own hand.
Each wish has a cost
One cannot foresee,
So choose wisely,
What you ask of me.
Some ask for riches,
A wish of much strife,
For while you have gold,
This may cost you your life.
Your gold may be stolen,
Or gambled away,
You may be accused of theft,
The very next day.
Those who ask for youth,
Have known to turn up,
Looking like children,
With minds of grown-ups.