In a quaint village where jesters reside, there was a bard named Will, known for his witty side. One day, he noticed a goat with a hat so neat and thought, 'What a fine creature! I must make it mine, what a treat!' He approached the farmer, twinkling with glee, 'Good sir, how much for that goat? I yearn for glee!' The farmer laughed, 'Nay, this goat cannot fly; it munches on grass and lets out a cry.' Will bought the goat, eager to entertain, claiming it could sing, but all it did was complain. The townsfolk erupted in laughter so bright, as the goat butted Will, and he fell with a fright. In muddy distress, he groaned, 'Alas!' The goat simply bleated, 'What a royal laugh!' Thus, in humor we’re shown, folly does count, for a goat's true gift is simply to mount.