The ogre laughed, more like a bray.

He said, “Son, I will hire you this day.”

Antuono said, “Whoa.  There’s a thing I must know.

Tell me how much you’d ask me to pay.”

The ogre said, “At my domain

you will find you’ve no need to complain.

We’ll have good times.  You’ll see.  And your lodging is free. 

I’m in need of a lad of no brain.”

For two years he lived as a son.

      The work load was little or none.

       It was pleasant.  But then he developed a yen

       to see how his mother had done.

       "You may visit a week and a day.

       Take my donkey to ride on your way,

       but take heed what you’re told. Don’t say, ‘Donkey, drop gold.’

       You’ll regret it to your dying day.”

       Antuono set off at a trot.

       As for “thank you,” he plainly forgot.

       And, once out of sight, he dismounted.  “All right,

       am I going to regret it or not?”

He said, “Donkey, nice donkey, drop gold.”

       And there on the ground to behold

                were fine diamonds and coins from the good donkey’s loins,

        as much as the panniers could hold.