Were Darn Old king, that would be a thing
to behold as in days of old.
A monarch of anarchy, given to vanity,
prone to profanity. Oh, the humanity.
Can’t you see Darn Old, tall in the saddle,
leading his forces in bigly battle,
herding the women like they were cattle,
confounding his court with infantile prattle?
The infinite glitter of his façade,
followers gob-smacked and overawed,all in his presence moved to applaud,
even perceiving him as a god.
Here I must stop, revealing the plot,
assuring you that a god he is not.
Abiding with him secures you a spotin a hereafter exceedingly 🔥HOT🔥.
