Then you awaken

All the fine folk who ate out of your hand,

eager to join your ramshackle parade,

Addressing you in voices sweet though bland,

will somehow vanish when you call for aid.

It’s wonderful how rapidly they fade,

unthankful for the kindness you bestowed,

their words and actions only a charade,

dry watercourse where once sweet river flowed.

They’re silent now, and will not hear command,

all of a sudden they can’t make the grade,

they suddenly declare you’re not so grand

and so, with you, they do not have to stand,

will give you laughter, never helping hand.

Thus will they leave, and not repay the owed, 

instead they’ll join another, louder, band,

dry watercourse where once sweet river flowed.

You are still happier than when they stayed, 

and got all the reward they could demand.

Instead they lied about just what they brayed

when they called you a master of the land.

Their honor had been founded upon sand,

whilst their sole weapon was a rusty goad 

lacking the worthiness a true brand,

dry watercourse where once sweet river flowed.

Prince, these fine friends with whom you worked, and planned,

each one of them has turned into a toad;

your hopes and happiness may not withstand

dry watercourse where once sweet river flowed.