O’ great one Tell me what you see For those who rival you are none Shall we be filled with glee? Or despair How queer, You’ve come upon a complication The end is near The end of the nation Whatever can we do? How I’ve always felt weary Every time you go blank It makes me rather teary For who do I thank? I cannot tell when you only see the grim How I dread coming to learn of kismet Oh how the poison stings It’s like a fish trapped in fishnet When you foresee the death of kings Prophets always see grim but no grace in kismet
