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Show My Ktng. The men who sing of a ruler's praise, Who toast their Kings In tho face of Fate, Who carol joy till their dying days, Or rhyme an ode to their master Hate; Forget the sovereign who lies in wait, ,,,, With fearful cunning, and patience rare, Whoso final import they underrate, King of them all, and his name Despair. Their chant of Hope is a siren song, Their King of Love is the King of Guile, They sway their sceptres above the throng, Waiting the fate of the after while. Waiting the King of relentless smile, With pitiless eyes, and a cruel stare, And the martys pass In a dreary file, To hear the judgment of King Despair. The shackles cut to the very soul The earth is cold, and the sky Is grey; A dreary stage for a thankless role, And nothing but Death to end tho play. But Duty is calling, far away, And Into the dark, the tollers dare Without the sight of a sweet sun ray, There in the realms of King Despair. ENVOY. So here's to the King that the weary know, With fearful cunning, and patience rare, Whose gaunt arms follow to where you go. Here's to a King and his name Despair. TOD GOODWIN. |