the rooks glare at him
his pawns are all dead
on his neck roars the queen
crown trembles on his head!

smells his fall the neighing knight
hangs on thread his fate
crown would go and so his might
war over the bishops trumpet!

his army of pawns are nowhere seen
the king feels so alone
his chosen war he failed to win
about time he leaves the throne!

victory at last the pieces sing
we have the king checkmate
behind the new face the same old king
readies to wear the crown’s weight!