Edge of the Checkerboard
I’ve lived a hard life,
I’ve also lived one that was easy
You could say I earned the name Checkers,
so who will be the fool
who will crown me?
I lived on the noisy fringe a long time,
just scraping to get by
I lived in quiet seclusion too,
so peaceful Shangri-La
When God saw fit to move me
from one end to the other,
the checkerboard had a changing terrain
Now who will be the fool
I call my court jester,
singing to me songs of joy and pain?
At the edge of the board,
there’s enough room for high and low:
Checkers here lived up in the ivory tower,
Checkers here been dragged to the black pit below
So I ask, are you the fool
who will give me my scepter,
and tell me I’ve been the king
of a mad, mad, mad, mad world?
If not, then jump me and take my crown, please ...
but, do so at your own peril
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