Trumpets blare, pennants unfurl
A hairdresser attends to the princess's curls
The crowd convenes, carpet is laid
The orchestra strikes up a grand Saturday
Greetings proclaimed by the guard
As the king and his men gather in the yard
He lifts his hand, and through the royal cheers
Raises his voice and says, "Lend me your ears"
Widows smirk, the jester turns red
The executioner's mask is pulled from his head
The sun goes down, the crowd files away
The orchestra forgets the next song they will play
The guard disperse, the carpet is rolled
The dogs are led in to keep away from the cold
The king retires back to the throne
But he will set through the whole night alone