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“They Stole My Crown”
©2021 Jerry Brotherton

On the eve of Coronation Day, the old king had lost the fight.
He called his court jesters together; told them something didn’t seem quite right.
All in my kingdom love me, I’m the best there’s ever been.
No way they’d vote against me, there’s no way I did not win.
So, he tied his note to a bird, sent his message across the land.
Said I need you at the castle, and we will make a glorious stand.
The King was boldly decorated but looked slightly overdone.
He stood before the rabble and said, beautiful people, your time has come.
He proclaimed that it was up to them, to keep him on the throne.
So go on down to the palace and fight, and I will stay right here at home.

Chorus:
     The rebels and the rascals,
     dressed in wild and strange costumes.
     Rushed through the door and across the floor,
     and crawled in and out of every room.
     They yelled to hang the bastard,
     they yelled to burn the witch.
     They searched high and low for anyone,
     to satisfy their murderous itch.

But all the Lords and the Ladies, had locked themselves in the meeting hall.
They promised that when it was over, they would gladly hang them all.
To the King it meant nothing, and he crawled into his bed.
Dreams of still ruling in the morn, rattling around like marbles in his head.
Meanwhile, back in the banquet hall, the guards did finally arrive.
They found the king was mistaken, and everyone was still quite alive.
They nervously called up the king, on his gold-covered phone.
Told him dude, looks like you still lose, you’ll no longer sit upon the throne.

(Repeat Chorus)

Now, in the meeting room, the royals gathered, led by the bastard and the witch.
They sat around the judgment table and voted to kick the old king to the ditch.
The four-year nightmare was over, all the losers we’re now leaving.
Everyone let out a huge sigh and said it’s a miracle we’re still breathing.
Just as the country shut its eyes, to dream of prosperous days to come.
The royals placed the crown atop the head, of a senile, stumbling, old bum.
And here we go again...
Well, the King and Queen stood before the rabble…
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