on the run

tales of far places told by happy folk
keep purpose centred upon a plain goal
you've never sure exactly what the role
you're asked to play is what you must evoke
you cannot dance and if you sing you croak
you're no more handsome than the normal mole
and yet your hope is the same starry pole
you've always looked for even as a joke
a sullen face does not win any prize
so you must smile and ever bear the brunt
of others' laughter with an even look
let what you know be hidden by your eyes
and slight amusement always be your front
for all that you go strictly by the book