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<h2> POOR KINGS </h2>
<p>God's pity on poor kings,<br/>
They know no gentle rest;<br/>
The North and South cry out,<br/>
Cries come from East and West—<br/>
"Come, open this new Dock,<br/>
Building, Bazaar or Fair."<br/>
Lord, what a wretched life<br/>
Such men must bear.<br/>
<br/>
They're followed, watched and spied,<br/>
No liberty they know;<br/>
Some eye will watch them still,<br/>
No matter where they go.<br/>
When in green lanes I muse,<br/>
Alone, and hear birds sing,<br/>
God's pity then, say I,<br/>
On some poor king.<br/></p>
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