Oh when a young princess gets kvetching, all the knights they get to stepping, to drive her pout away /And a Queen of Milfy years, still regally takes her cheers, and expects folks to obey// But if I might be permitted now to school, if you want to convince folks you've divine right to rule, then live heathily my dear, whether you're kind or cruel, to a hundred give or take a day, you're always sure to get your way, when you're on the throne, as a crone// I know you don't believe, some folks simply can't conceive it, but as the wrinkles deepen and form. Increasingly the peasantry, more and more comes to see, your rightful rule, as a norm! Like a moon that shows up nightly, thorough you maybe frail (but sprightly), they'll come to see you as their own. They'll not be able to envision, a world in which your missing, if you make it to be a crone! on a throne!/ You can order traitors to their death in the most violent of manners, they'll cheer and wave you banner. You can wipe out a whole village, set your troops to burn (First pillage) ! Each attrociety you command, they'll just say "Aint the old gal, grand?' because several generations know you and you alone! Be a crone! On a throne!
