Fairytales
The castle smiles down on the town.
Today the new King receives his crown.
That molten crown of silver and gold,
The one from which the tales are told.
The tales that sing of kings and queens,
Of flying pumpkins and magic beans.
Of big wide oceans where ships do sail,
And the sweet, soft song of the nightingale.
Of flowing rivers and strong white steeds,
And little children among the reeds.
Yes, a new king is crowned today,
Yet all the people have gone away.
They’ve gone to England, they’ve gone to Rome.
They've left the land that was their home.
They don’t wish a new king’s law,
To hear him speak, to stand in awe.
Fairytales are dead, they say,
Because the old king went away