And tells the queen that he has a fever.
He rides his grey horse in agony,
Can’t you see how badly he needs her?
Then she took his helmet off,
And touched her hand to his burning face.
Suddenly, he started to softly cough,
And her servants saw him to the right place.
They threw him in the dungeon cell,
With a wooden sign that reads “Quarantine”.
And as the leaves outside abruptly fell,
He sat staring at his hands; never made a scene.
The cat sized rats start chewing his armor,
The silver locusts are plaguing his heart.
Meanwhile, the queen throws her crown into the harbor,
And the men’s horses are torn apart.
Until finally, ripe with age and short on time,
his cell began to fill with tears and laughter.
For his cough was phony and his face was always fine,
It was only the queen’s soft touch that he was after.
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