A king, he came, with crown on head.
A crown of lead and beard of red.
He came, he saw and then he said,
Have we reached the end?

A priest, he came, they met this way.
His robe of gray, it would not stay.
He saw the king and spoke to say,
Can you see the end?

The king, the crown, when all hope died,
with pain his bride and tears undried,
Fell to his knees and wept and cried,
Will you tell the end?

The priest, his grace, perused his mind,
In search to find a long lost line.
But then he left and gave no sign.
Nothing of the end.

For every man and woman gone,
We add verses to our song.
And see, our song is growing long,
Still yet to reach the end. . .