THE CONQUARER



The conspiracy of the kingdom made him zonk;
The military zapped him, everything he had was gone,
He had nothing left, so he became a monk;
But the zealot again killed his zest, he must be gone,
The zephyr of the next morning brought him the sun;
He now played the xylophone on his own tone,
He was now ready to fight back and win over the sun:
He knew that his history would be written in a tome,
He was now to reclaim what he had lost;
Those recidivists will all now be crushed,
Those who try to recalcitrant would be shot;
And they who would not follow him would be accursed,
With sword in his hand, he finally acquired what he had lost,
Nobody can claim that he was the one who was unjust.

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