In the halls of ancient stone, where shadows softly tread,
The kings of yore sit on their thrones, with wisdom in their head.
Their crowns of gold, a beacon bright, in the dim and murky night,
They guard the secrets of the past, with valor and with might.

Through battles fierce and fields of red, their legacy unfolds,
With every tale of courage told, their memory in gold.
The whispers of their noble deeds, in every heart resound,
The kings of the eternal realm, whose honor knows no bound.

In forest deep and mountains high, their spirits ever roam,
The ancient lands they once did rule, still call their souls back home.
The rivers sing their stories, the winds echo their names,
The guardians of the ancient lands, forever in their frames.

So let us raise a glass tonight, to kings of days gone by,
Whose strength and wisdom light our path, beneath the endless sky.
For though their reign has ended, their legacy remains,
In every heart that beats with pride, their spirit still sustains.