Arthur, King.

Arthur, King.

Now here’s a thing

old Arthur, King,

in Cornwall he was born.

In Tintagel,

he was heard to yell,

on a cold, dark Winter’s morn.

His nights were long,

his knights were strong,

his table it was round;

he is the once

and future king,

so maybe he’ll refound

to say hello

and save us all

from our now and future fate.

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