Sentiments for a fool,
a fool who wears a crown,
a beak he has, for a tool,
but all that's predicted is going down.
A flap, a croak as she falls,
is all that the rebellion shall need.
All that he's left with is a crawl,
sad, sad king with a wholesome deed.
The clock rings one and the laughter stops.
Today we remember the fallen king
who got greedy and supported the sops.
But now is vanquished, what a thing.
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