unless the king approaches

Today the coronation will be called
To select the guilty from the wronged
And on the guilty so hang a crown
With several points turned upside down
And from each point come three points more
To breed on hands and back a sore
And from each sore grow some great tree
Our citizens shall rejoice to see
And on this sight the wronged shall gaze
As court and jury go their ways
And thence the image serves to be
A fixture of eternity
And so transfixed the wronged shall lie
Beating on the heart of life
For on every king that wears a crown
And on every serf that bears a sow
Time will come and time will drown
The guilty and the wronged alone
And from these waves will wash a stone
Upon the feet of some lone crone
And on this stone the crone shall suck
Until she comes upon some great trunk
And sets the stone upon a tree
That grows from the sores of the guiltily crowned.