The next day,
I came at bay;
to the only force in my life that may,
be able to make me pay,
for my naïveté

I was a fool,
though I did not drool,
or lose my cool,
when I learned I could lose my rule,
if I lost to my enemy in a duel

O, how I hated my enemy,
mad, insane was he,
or was it a she?
My memory’s failing me,
as you can plainly see

But I still have all the wit,
of that old man who used to sit,
in his throne and often hit,
his servants when he had a fit,
I insist, however, I never quit

Being a good ruler,
there was never a stir,
over me not having allure,
keeping my kingdom in favor,
economically for the treasurer

To this day I’ll never understand,
how any in this land,
could have succumbed to his horrid demand:
‘no skiing, no swimming, no playing in the sand,
no helping, no loving, no listening to the band’

It was he who killed our civilization, not I,
he is the one who did cheat, bribe and lie,
I could never do it; I’d rather die!
I admit to not so much as heaving a sigh,
when he made these changes, I don’t know why

But I had no idea these changes would hurt,
every Tem, Din and Bert,
how was I to know I was being curt?
Those rumors about me being a flirt,
are so wrong they make me want to squirt,

The perpetrator with a water-gun,
from him I wouldn’t run,
I’d have my fun,
but wouldn’t overdo it on just this one,
when there are so many who try to make me look dumb

The one I resented was him,
who kept his face always dim,
but I know his name is Kim,
or was it Jim?
Of him I don’t remember a face or a limb

I tried to throw him out of my court,
but of supporters he was not short,
and he stayed on like an ugly wart,
I was dying to ship off him to a faraway port,
so he could never find his way back to my fort,
(which is of course called Trort
the ‘T’ for short)

The T became worse every week,
Kim made me look as weak as a freak,
o, that deceptful, back-stabbing sneak,
I’d love to smash in his pointy beak,
and then he’d not complain of my reek

Then guess what Kim decided to do,
he moved the capital from the T to the Q,
(short for Qú-nù’lû,
the crime capital of Trou)
It was then he attempted his coup

To throw me out of power,
his dark face red and sour,
unlike myself I did not cower,
and stood up even prouder,
as the clock struck the midnight hour

He stared at me with murder in his eyes,
and I finally saw through his disguise,
his contempt, his readiness to use lies,
how easily he’d been able to rise,
to the top and play with others’ lives

I struck him down before he could strike back,
and I realized what is was he might lack,
not the mental ability to attack,
but physical strength he possessed not a crack,
I struck him down with one final whack

To the cremators I had his body sent,
to finally end his enduring torment,
the terrible days with him that had been spent,
must be reversed with a new ascent,
with love and purity as accompaniment