An old man sits on his throne His limbs all weaken'd and gray What is a king with no kingdom to rule This quandary troubles his mind I am the greatest 'neath the heavens No thief shall own what is mine The earth shall tremble in fear When the dying whisper my name They came to the shores from the west His crown and sceptre to claim In bloody conflict the scores would be settl'd In a battle o'er land and fame His men stood by upon the field From no battle they would shun Despite their armour and wooden shields Their blood soon caress'd by steel A young herald rode forth Imperial was his voice: "Return to us the crown of thine; To whom it rightfully belongs: Lest our fury be releas'd In full strength upon thy weary followers. This is our claim and our threatening Be well adviced and comply." The sun did rise at dawn The field soon soak'd with blood With superior courage and arguments of steel Their claim both right and just His soldiers fell despite their might All pierc'd by arrows and spears And those who surviv'd fled the field With unbearable shame in their hearts The old man could but weep His defeat he could not deny With gun-stones and swords; his army destroy'd And the soil discolour'd with blood