See them tumbling down,
Heading, their mugs, toward the ground,
Honed from bodies, no more bound.
Guillotined noggins are tumblin' to tumbrels feed.

They were royals; now they're riding midst a throng;
Tumbrels wheeled 'round Paree elicit a song.
Light of head they'll be very soon;
Riotous throng sings, "King's a goon!"

See them tumbling down,
Sometimes one rolls on the ground,
Boys bowl it and knock 'em down.
Guillotined noggins are rumblin' to tumble quilles.*

"Cake, let them eat," she'd opined,
No chops final time she dined,
Soon would come the cut unkind.
Her last repast was a dumpling-thing humble feed.

A new reign had been spawned,
But some swore they'd been conned.

Adieu, Louis, Antoine',
Robespierre too would be gone,
Joined by his compère** Danton.
Before too long, they'd, too, tumble to tumbrels feed.


* bowling pins
** pal