Vict’ry is a fickle thing, and often changes hands,
The moment you become the king, you’ll find (at second glance)
That, now, all hope has turned its face, no longer are you rising
Now my Prince, my Lordship, Grace, you’re facing an uprising
Your head is turned, your eyes are closed, your ears are never list’ning,
And now, you’re views are oft opposed, and mutiny is glist’ning
I’ve told you so, I’ve warned you well, and now I laugh in spite,
Your time is up, now bid farewell, prepare to make your flight
Good luck, my boy, companion, friend, and, please will you take heed?
That lust for power meets no end, yet the end meets all of greed