Born
in the winter
of seventy -three
Third down the line in the family
A young man carrying an old book
Written in
Greek, he made friends
without making enemies
Gave a long speech in the cold rain,
and rode a white horse in the parade
And everyone got a handshake
for 31 days
He lived a long life, he had a good wife, kids of his own,
nine that lived to be full grown.
And he carried the banner he was born to lead,
and led his army to a victory.
As a general and a fighter, a gentleman and a father,
he fell when he couldn't get higher, after 31 days.
He was just getting started, when he joined the team he departed,
it seems that history forgot him, after 31 days.
With his last words and his last breath
A little satisfaction, a little more
He passed away after 31 days
And his grandson got the same job
And
William
Henry would have been proud
But he never found out after 31 days
The last words of a man who fought
in three wars
I'd ask for nothing more