Returning now his mortal soil to earth

That cold damp dust that gave his essence form,

The grit and grime bestowed to him at birth

Now here upon life’s battle ground come home.

His spirit quite absconded, God knows where,

For win or lose—‘twas all a game of chance;

Who claimed his spirit?—Why, he didn’t care—

As ever was his path a bold romance.

But those who truly loved him knew his curse,

That vagabond of souls that they held dear

Blood pledged by honor to life’s best and worst,

Where every choice was made sans care or fear.

He lived his life, a king without a crown

And reigned in zeal ‘til fate fair laid him down.