King Doniert – a poem.

King Doniert – a poem

King Doniert

lived in a yurt

until he got hurt

in a battle;

then he lay in the ground

where he never was found;

but, at night, his bones they do rattle.

King Doniert’s cross

that his death was our loss;

and now we do not have a king;

sent Peran a note

On which he said, quote:

’I was all for doing my thing’.

Now he’s long gone,

no more than a dream,

we just have a stone

and King Doniert’s scone

which is jam on first

and then with the cream.

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