King Majestin felt quite sad and old, His affections were perverted ; And so his daughter into gold He speedily converted. All night long he'd utter groans Of deepest melancholy, Kept awake by painful bones ; Next day he'd be quite jolly. His royal blood rushed to his head, Disturbed was his abdomen ; He often wished that he was dead, This King of evil omen.
Remedy Pls.....



