LAncien Rgime; or The Good Old Rule

Who has a thing to bring     For a gift to our lord the king,     Our king all kings above?     A young girl brought him love;     And he dowered her with shame,     With a sort of infamous fame,     And then with lonely years     Of penance and bitter tears:     Love is scarcely the thing     To bring as a gift for our king.     Who has a thing to bring     For a gift to our lord the king?     A statesman brought him planned     Justice for all the land;     And he in recompense got     Fierce struggle with brigue and plot,     Then a fall from lofty place     Into exile and disgrace     Justice is never the thing     To bring as a gift for our king.     Who has a thing to bring     For a gift to our lord the king?     A writer brought him truth;     And first he imprisoned the youth;     And then he bestowed a free pyre     That the works might have plenty of fire,     And also to cure the pain     Of the headache called thought in the brain:     Truth is a very bad thing     To bring as a gift for our king.     Who has a thing to bring     For a gift to our lord the king?     The people brought their sure     Loyalty fervid and pure;     And he gave them bountiful spoil     Of taxes and hunger and toil,     Ignorance, brutish plight,     And wholesale slaughter in fight:     Loyaltys quite the worst thing     To bring as a gift for our king.     Who has a thing to bring     For a gift to our lord the king?     A courtier brought to his feet     Servility graceful and sweet,     With an ever ready smile     And an ever supple guile;     And he got in reward the place     Of the statesman in disgrace:     Servilitys always a thing     To bring as a gift for our king.     Who has a thing to bring     For a gift to our lord the king?     A soldier brought him war,     La gloire, la victoire,     Ravage and carnage and groans,     For the pious Te Deum tones;     And he got in return for himself     Rank and honours and pelf:     War is a very fine thing     To bring as a gift for our king.     Who has a thing to bring     For a gift to our lord the king?     A harlot brought him her flesh,     Her lusts, and the manifold mesh     Of her wiles intervolved with caprice;     And he gave her his realm to fleece,     To corrupt, to ruin, and gave     Himself for her toy and her slave:     Harlotrys just the thing     To bring as a gift for our king.     Who has a thing to bring     For a gift to our lord the king,     Our king who fears to die?     A priest brought him a lie,     The blackness of hell uprolled     In heavens shining gold;     And he got as guerdon for that     A see and a cardinals hat:     A lie is an excellent thing     To bring as a gift for our king.     Has any one yet a thing     For a gift to our lord the king?     The country gave him a tomb,     A magnificent sleeping-room;     And for this it obtained some rest,     Clear riddance of many a pest,     And a hope which it much enjoyed     That the throne would continue void:     A tomb is the very best thing     For a gift to our lord the king.