Oppidan in the waterside

Wail,frail and indeed go a sail, in your unsacred night rest
kite in the miniatured floater go
Native of water in the block jewed savanahs slipslope
Walking the mother of her shores rope
In the rains cometh
woes and death eventually erodes,
and your covering head looms no joy
 King with the bands so strong an alloy
Let thy strength due time be

Trouble yet hung overwhere your todd sojourns
Your countenances pale when you mourns
Yet your land indeed aged biblical Meriba
Terence marchandise found silver, embroidery, rubies with gold
The cry mother in the west volumpteous and treacherously dealt
What your owned plight a scarce in dry Delhi road

Ahothophel counsels you on the den hill
Your pride soon fall in your outhide
Wind wall glazed you on everyside
Waterman reside on the worse
People yet be groaned at your untamed Overflowing course
people hear thy rhythm of your seared heart pulse.
Merchant of good, by tiny grinny perilous way.