Give honour to which honour is due
And addition, value the golden crown
In style.
With eloquent movement and smiles
Like young people, the lions dash to catch
And never doubt that
With a spirit that tosses and ebbs
Like sea waves
Pigs are the one's whose honour clings
Whose queen and kingship blinks.
Don't dare crown a pig
Who has not seen a forest?
Like the dog still says it will
Leave the dead rat
Where you found it.
Don't crown it
Or the crown will be in sheets
And be like a small feather sticking out of it
And the golden crown it wears,
Must sure soon wear
For always it feeds from the dirt
And gets the palace parlour stained with its dirt
Because it wasn't tied like a goat
Hence, the crown will become a pot-basket
So long, as the king is
The pig in the parlour.
« return.