Once the Goblins wanted a King
And they thought it would be a wonderful thing
Toot the bells and let the horns ring,
The Goblins, they have found a King
They took a Goblin impeccable
Wild and free and ineffable
“Let’s switch from bass to treble,”
Declared one Goblin rebel.
For Goblins were not ruled before
And they didn’t want that anymore
They wanted someone who knew the score
To tell them what to do, and not be a bore
A Goblin King would be immune
From the ways other rulers went out of tune
“He won’t like rules, or be a baboon;
He’s too Goblin to be thusly hewn.”
The Goblin they picked loved anarchy
Which they, too, loved quite heavily
They knew they’d live life wild and free
Under the rule of such as he.
Excitement ruled the Goblin sphere
“Just look what we’ve accomplished here!
Someone who’ll rule by brains, not fear!”
They rejoiced, and attacked kegs of beer.
The Goblin King ordered fireworks
And dismantled pyreworks
But the happy ending’s a mire, jerks;
Power like tripwire works.
After the parties and reveling
For months they were happy with their King
Who didn’t so a single thing
That didn’t leave Goblins happy-making
But after a while (tis the nature of Force)
(You’ve probably guessed the moral, of course)
With power comes the overgrown gorse
Of Responsibility and Remorse.
When you’re King, you want the rule of law
Lest you be a fool for flaw
I’ll tell it straight, I’ll tell it raw:
Power corrupts. That’s what I saw.
He was no Dictator, true
He probably did better than I or you
Might, if responsibility drew
Your attention, with cry and hew:
Suddenly, Goblins had rules
And Goblin Police stopped being fools
And Goblin ardor quickly cools
When faced with various Kingly tools.
For he met with other rulers
(For which he needed a crown from jewelers)
And a palace without so many peculiars
And a jail; so they built many coolers.
Other kings talked of monarchy
And Responsibility
“Rule of Law”, they said, “Is key.
If you want to get anywhere rapidly.”
My story’s short. I’m sure you’ve a guess
At what happened: total mess
The Goblins like their Kingliness
But not TOO much, I must confess.
I’ll make it simple. Before long,
The Goblins realized they were wrong
Being a King is a minor-key song
(Please pass the Hobbit-weed, and the bong.)
Soon Goblinia started to resemble
What any Human king would assemble
And any who might dare dissemble
Feared the jails; and would rightly tremble.
A Tyrant? No. Just the one in charge
With Goblins, that’s like steering a barge
Instead of a king with Goblin-ness large
He acted like any King, dear Sarge
Passed laws and rules and restrictions
‘Till Goblins bent in constrictions
For ALL Kings have predilections
For order and rules (you were right in predictions.)
They hated it. They all pitched corks
And drank wine ‘til they found pitchforks
And sooner than you can run from storks
They realized they were acting like Orcs.
Goblin’s don’t hate all organization
But they’re more of an association
Than what we might really call a nation
And this led to great frustration.
And to be honest, while drunk with power
The Goblin King saw that the flower
Of his Kingdom withered, like in an acid shower
And also, he saw everybody glower
He could have raised an Army then,
Perhaps recruiting stout, strong Men
But he was too schooled in moderate Zen
It was time to go soon, and he knew when.
He repealed many laws and requirements
Abdicated! And went into retirement
He left the crown and thrown all bent
And told everyone his sentence was spent.
He retired with a handsome some
And spends his days sipping absinthe rum
And telling stories of how he was dumb,
And what a fool he had become.
Goblins have rules. Goblins have laws.
They do love Order, but know its flaws.
The moral here is made of gauze:
Power corrupts, and brings out your flaws.
So they returned to self-governance
Which for most races makes no sense
But Goblins are weird, and can be intense
They seldom seek crime or violence
Not because they’re some kind of Good
But because they love freedom, as we all should
And they’re not brainless, like blocks of wood
They realized they preferred things where they once stood.
I’ve no more to say. Ask the King-once-and-never
Are Goblins therefore happy forever?
No, but this is the part that’s clever:
Know when to make rules.
And when to sever.
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