The miser brought his greening hoard,
And the king cast in his sword.
Yet, when the Bell in the Temple swung,
It jarred the stars with its harsh tongue.
"Is this your best?" the oracle said,
"Then were you better drunk or dead."
Once again they melted it down,
And the king cast in his crown.
Then they poured wine, and bullock's blood,
Into the hot, grey, seething flood.