In the lost childhood, his youth was lost
Cued by fuss and the cortège near.
Who brewed him, baked him and pampered him
And upon him riches like hail stones they lavished.
When the old must tell stories, of men and women of valour.
They nodded in glee his wallows and escapades galore.
For they cherished it like stories of Camelot.
Wenches, wine and speeding cars – the spirits that enriched him!
And riches like as for the Romans, but stealthily devoured him
Inheritance vile and the past wretch eclipsed
By riches of gold those any man will envy.
And they brewed him, baked him and pampered him
In his spoiled childhood, his youth was lost.