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