An old man sits on his throne

His limbs all weaken'd and gray

What is a king with no kingdom to rule

This quandary troubles his mind



I am the greatest 'neath the heavens

No thief shall own what is mine

The earth shall tremble in fear

When the dying whisper my name

They came to the shores from the west

His crown and sceptre to claim

In bloody conflict the scores would be settl'd

In a battle o'er land and fame

His men stood by upon the field

From no battle they would shun

Despite their armour and wooden shields

Their blood soon caress'd by steel



A young herald rode forth

Imperial was his voice :

"Return to us the crown of thine;

to whom it rightfully belongs:

Lest our fury be releas'd

in full strength upon thy weary followers.

This is our claim and our threatening

be well adviced and comply."



The sun did rise at dawn

The field soon soak'd with blood

With superior courage and arguments of steel

Their claim both right and just



His soldiers fell despite their might

All pierc'd by arrows and spears

And those who surviv'd fled the field

With unbearable shame in their hearts

The old man could but weep

His defeat he could not deny

With gun-stones and swords; his army destroy'd

And the soil discolour'd with blood