Flowers of the King
(A Thoreaen Lament)
There once was a beautiful city,
So great and majestic was she,
With petals that rained
And people who sang
Of the Flowers of the King.
Her maidens wore lilies and saffron.
Her princes wore poppies and rose.
No hardship she knew
Nor thistles she grew
With the Flowers of the King.
In winter, she slept ‘neath the mountain.
The summers she greeted with spring.
No realm did compare
To that city so fair,
Called the Flowers of the King.
Her rivers of gold now in tarnish;
Her garden has withered away.
The autumn bells rang
When her knights were slain
For the Flowers of the King.
We bleed for the city of crimson!
We weep for the city of kings!
We mourn for the dead
In that city of dread.
Oh, the fall of Bllawhannanree!
A tear for the city of blessings.
A sigh for the city of peace.
We march ever on
To the sound of the song,
The Flowers of the King.
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