Tell me, Humphrey,
That Maharaja of yours:
Suraj Singh of Todi,
Didn’t he steal glances
With the fairy maiden Betsy?
Oh my my!
That’s a telltale.
Couldn’t you see, old man?
He’ll sign the treaty.
Trade is important.
But, By Jove!
So is fornication.
Tell you, Humphrey,
This strange land
Is not so strange after all.
The dust is as dramatic,
Ice, as tasteless,
The rules, as silly,
The kings and their men
As vile as the hoarders of gold.
Only the chance they seek
Is narrow.
There, Humphrey,
will come our retribution!
For someday, old friend,
At the loss of lust, a slash
On the wrist,
In the sadness of damp soil,
In the autumn coffin, will lay
Fools and heroes together,
Conspiring
With the living
For glory.
Etched in stone.
Tell them, Humphrey,
We rightfully won!
