THE KING

Thru the savannahs of the old world prowls the king of beasts
He stalks with silent footsteps the prey upon which he feasts
His roar is heard between the valleys and rings from the mountain top
The strength with which he walks no unarmed man can stop
His gentleness of spirit is seen within his young
The glory of his might are where legends have begun
He is one of the elders who came before us all
He will walk beside you when its time for the final call
He is called the king which all must bow before
He stands in front of the golden gate to open the last door