The Lord of Misrule

eet as the dawn-wind over the downs
And the tall white cliffs that the wild thyme crowns
A song that the whole sky sings:--

When Salomon sailed from Ophir,
With Olliphants and gold,
The kings went up, the kings went down,
Trying to match King Salomon's crown,
But Salomon sacked the sunset,
Wherever his black ships rolled.
He rolled it up like a crimson cloth,
And crammed it into his hold.

_Chorus_: Salomon sacked the sunset!

Salomon sacked the sunset!
He rolled it up like a crimson cloth,
And crammed it into his hold.

His masts were Lebanon cedars,
His sheets were singing blue,
But that was never the reason why
He stuffed his hold with the sunset sky!
The kings could cut their cedars,
And sail from Ophir, too;
But Salomon packed his heart with dreams
And all the dreams were true.

_Chorus_: The kings could cut their cedars,

Cut their Lebanon cedars;
But Salomon packed his heart with dreams,