An old man sits on his throne  His limbs all weaken'd and gray  What is a king with no kingdom to rule  This quandary troubles his mind    I am the greatest 'neath the heavens  No thief shall own what is mine  The earth shall tremble in fear  When the dying whisper my name  They came to the shores from the west  His crown and sceptre to claim  In bloody conflict the scores would be settl'd  In a battle o'er land and fame  His men stood by upon the field  From no battle they would shun  Despite their armour and wooden shields  Their blood soon caress'd by steel    A young herald rode forth  Imperial was his voice :  "Return to us the crown of thine;  to whom it rightfully belongs:  Lest our fury be releas'd  in full strength upon thy weary followers.  This is our claim and our threatening  be well adviced and comply."    The sun did rise at dawn  The field soon soak'd with blood  With superior courage and arguments of steel  Their claim both right and just    His soldiers fell despite their might  All pierc'd by arrows and spears  And those who surviv'd fled the field  With unbearable shame in their hearts  The old man could but weep  His defeat he could not deny  With gun-stones and swords; his army destroy'd  And the soil discolour'd with blood