King of the World

The king died by falling off the world.
He stood on the pole; we told him not to.
But ice is slippery: it’s just common sense.
There must be none of that
At the end of the world.

He fell a long way, I imagine.
It’s a long way from here to Mars.
And when he lands, the Martians’ll look at him funny.
They’ve never seen a spaceman with broken legs before. 

Without the king’s shadow, we’ll be in sunshine.
It’s kind of bright: ever been to Norway in the summer?
And the sun’s not good for you.
Skin cancer, blindness, all that jazz.
Did you see the old king? Burned to a crisp;
A prawn on a Spanish barbeque.
But we can’t have all this. 

So we’ll get a new king.
Chain him to the pole so he won’t fall off.
Then we can blindfold him
So the sun won’t drive him mad and
He won’t try to give it to us.
Out of touch, but it’s better that way.
The blindfold keeps him sane
(But it is why the old king fell off.)