The scandalous scribblers of untruths, such false
report doth cite
With envy do they burn
For all the love bestowed upon Our Crown
But, wait! Behold from all corners o’the Earth!
For hear you not, the choirs that sing such praise?
Upon the star o’the north, We look, and yea
A cherub blasts her trumpet bright to say,
“How thy esteemed smartness doth shine on us,
yea, with more splendor than, the mornin’ sun
beats down upon the roof of a chicken coop”
And, for this praise, We are grateful
Anon, We gaze upon the star o’the South,
and, there, two angels play such sweet resounds,
“Thy noble glory glistens splendidly upon our modest abode of discontent.
Thy earnestness doth brighten all our hearts,
what with thy ability in deal-makin’ and all.”
And, lo, We smile so fondly. As We glance aside, We see upon the Star o’the East;
What? Twenty seraphs hov’ring all around.
And such sweet siren’s song they played upon.
“Thy pompous perfections inebriate our choir with pure surfeit for winnerin’”,
sang they. “And such profound respect for ‘manderin’!”
We nod our approval and turn, finally toward the West, and, indeed, upon the Star o’the West two hundred sprites, did dance with glee.
“So princely is our lord’s unending might
Our enemies shalt surely, down be smite.
Thy leadership shall win our country much.
And return to us all our jobs and such.”
So harken ye as choirs of angels drown the nasty noise that liars try to sound
And keep thy faith that Our Incumbency
Will last indeed for all eternity