By Right Divine
In this free land I know a tyrant king
Who rules supreme a kingdom all his own,
Who reigns supreme by right divine alone,
Who governs slaves that always cringe and sing,—
“He walks! He talks!” in most admiring tone;
They quail with fear if he but make a moan,
And wild confusion comes if he but fling
Away his scepter—coral, jingling thing!
He is a king, though loving anarchy,
A tyrant king, whom our fond land obeys,
A tyrant king, yet scarce a mimic man;
And this whole land is bound in monarchy,
All mother-hearts some little ruler sways,
If harder fathers be republican.
Who rules supreme a kingdom all his own,
Who reigns supreme by right divine alone,
Who governs slaves that always cringe and sing,—
“He walks! He talks!” in most admiring tone;
They quail with fear if he but make a moan,
And wild confusion comes if he but fling
Away his scepter—coral, jingling thing!
He is a king, though loving anarchy,
A tyrant king, whom our fond land obeys,
A tyrant king, yet scarce a mimic man;
And this whole land is bound in monarchy,
All mother-hearts some little ruler sways,
If harder fathers be republican.
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