The pauper prince: A poem 

He who is undaunted and ever so bold 

Unfurls the magic, though none behold 

That he, the soldier, turns lead to gold 

And while he suffers, is never sold 

The child in him is fit to be king 

For in his propriety, wears wisdom’s ring 

That he is waylaid, but never laid bare 

And is worth many gems, eluding every snare 

His poverty is riches beyond compare 

Counting successes, others don’t dare 

For it’s easy to fall prey to the villainy of the world 

And be spoilt for choices, yet he goes unruffled 

That wizards and viceroys reap out of evil 

And the pauper goes fighting with merely his will 

Yet, when God’s judgement dawns, his truth will be told 

While the reprobates will all be left out in the cold