Power-hungry and out for money,
No foe not left begging or for safety scrambling,
I could conquer all as behind me more I rally,
But why seek to crush you when your fall is but a calling,
You will lead yourself over the wall, and deal with the wildlings.
I bay for blood and slaughter all your herds,
I seek no third, or second, only first,
My thirst is not for curd, and I will have not a word from you heard,
I instead burn for the mantle, like a stag disgruntled I will prance and kick until my way is had,
I do not need, from you, to earn, I shall trot over your carcass glad,
Your fall I assure you is none of my concern, for underfoot it is certain you will land.
I kiss, embrace, lift and hold close,
But you miss, disgrace, drift and blow a hose,
I charged you down while the wind was behind me, and the swell of the sea rose,
I marched in proud while your troops cowered in hiding, and the wells of the city were as red as rose,
You stand no chance against me in this battle of envy, why boast?
I shunned your only chance as blasphemy in this prattle of (yours) vanity, you lie a ghost.
I would advise you take a knee and accept the hierarchy that is me,
For I am regally,
Yours in authority,
Evans Mbora Campbell.