Upon the ancient throne they rise, in halls of gold and might,
With crowns adorned in precious gems, they rule both day and night.
The echoes of their ancestors, in whispers soft and low,
Guide their hands and hearts, through paths only monarchs know.

In battles fierce on fields of green, their courage stands unbowed,
With swords of steel and hearts of fire, they lead the mighty crowd.
The banners wave, the trumpets sound, a symphony of war,
For kings must fight to guard their realm, and peace they must restore.

Yet in the quiet of the night, when stars adorn the sky,
They ponder on their heavy crowns, and often question why.
The weight of power, the cost of throne, a burden hard to bear,
For kings are but mere mortal men, with dreams and silent prayer.

But through the ages, tales are told of kings both great and wise,
Their legacies in stone and song, beneath the endless skies.
And so they reign, with hope and fear, their destinies entwined,
For kings and crowns, through time’s own hand, by history defined.