The lonesome goblin bows to no lord,
Sitting on his precious hoard,

He has no eye for the traders,
Nor those who call themselves invaders,
He recalls his old friends,
Who had a vicious case of the spends,
In vain he tried to warn,
of the impending storm of scorn,
Alas he bailed,
As he realised he failed,
Now he sits all alone,
If only they had known