Belief does not existence make.
Green leaves pass from tree to rake.
Green sleeves was not written by a king.
That was told to make you think
That kings were great,
When all he really did, he ate.
And decide he did who to hang next.
By women, in particular, he was vexed.
And delighted too.
Still he couldn’t choose
Whether he wanted women or food.
And coming a close third was booze.
Instead he watched the gardener rake
The green leaves in his garden late
And decided he had to paint.
But why paint when you’ve got someone for that.
That someone can sign it Henry, he felt.