A loud-mouthed braggart struts around
In vestiges of power
Crowned and balmed by lesser men
Who know but how to cower
His robe in silk and purple cloth
Regalia of solid gold
Speak not the price in greasy coins
For which these things were sold

Of ruling the empire he has bought
He doesn't know a thing
He has no virtue, wit or knowledge
To guide him as a king
Formerly a petty merchant
His coins did not suffice
To satisfy his lust for more -
For more, at any price!

Yet merchants are not noblemen
And never they can be
These castes are bred for different things
Confusing them is heresy
Or so it was in better days
Of ancient wisdom's rule
Back when a crown required virtue
Not the coin of a random fool

What the false king does not know
Is his reign's impermanence
And noone dares to speak the truth
In fear he will take offense
Barbarians from the northern wastelands
Gather a growing horde
Ready to slaughter, burn and plunder -
Victory will be their reward.