THE SAD YEARS
THE HOUSE OF CARDS (Continued)
Oh, the chatter, chatter, chatter,
Of the things that never matter.
Of the tongues that rage or flatter
And the countless feet that clatter
With their noisy pitter patter,
Till my castles all they scatter,
All my pretty houses scatter.
See yon splendid pageant forming,
To the gates the draw-bridge storming.
Yonder come in kingly passion
Lords and knights in war-like fashion.
See the black-browed monarch going,
Drums a-rolling, trumpets blowing,
Clash of sword and armour's rattle
He so full of rage and battle
For a mad-cap princess hiding
In some secret nook deriding
All his wild and fierce pursuing,
All his dark and despot wooing.
But they must not in their passion,
Break my song in such a fashion,
