By old age bent, and by his burden bowed, a weary woodsman staggered groaning homeward.
At last he could no farther go, and dropped despairing to the ground.
Had ever he known happiness? Was any man on earth more wretched? Always working, often hungry; a slave to wife, to kids, to taxes, debts; a prey to bosses, landlords, soldiers, thieves!
He called on Death, and Death appeared.
“Might I assist?”
The woodsman quailed. “I’ve rested now. Will you please help me to my feet?” he said.
Most people’d rather suffer than be dead.