The pauper and king went to town one day to see what they had for sale The carriage held the king pauper took his own feet's way both arrived in hail There was a clamour in the square "A vagabond!" "A scoundrel!" cried the township of people
The vagabond just sat there though his limbs were like tendrils the more to fear angered the people His eyes alighted on the king regal in his gowns a romance in red velvet "You are full of shining things" said the pauper to the crown'ed "Open your purse and share the mighty wallet"
Pretending not to hear, King turned his head from all in his see "Not my problem" spake he with an air for the dead "T'is no business for me" "Brute, murderer and monster" cried the pauper to the king "Be you no better" vagabond cried
"I never stole bread from the lips of the suffering" "Not with hand has he" "But his tables fill bellies while ours quake in hunger let us bear famine no longer" "To Arms! To Arms!" called the small village "He'll eat his words. Dine on them"
The vagabond sat while the glad group pounded. The king had no more words and the village roared