Alas, my name saint’s a decrepit king,
And I, a nonetheless intrepid king
Whoever lies and lies and tells the truth
Would never bow before a tepid king
I dial my Dick decoder ring and sulk
And think, a spotted ermine Leopard King
My queen is taken by the bishop’s pawn.
Am I mistaken for a vapid king?
But day breaks hard, the barnyard poultry cries.
And when the sun arrives, yclep it King!
You worship staring straight into his eyes,
I hit the register, a rapid king
The richer dead, the poorer gone before,
The middled mine. I’m not a crooked king
Waiting for Cassowary 