The mowing blades of time move on new pastures.

Who’s eating your paddock, my King?
I’m just thinking.
Why? What news of grass do you bring?
I hear the grass moves
in mysterious ways, my King.
Every blade tells a story, and
they speak to the winds, my King.
All that matters
is that the greens
stays on our side
of the fence.
So water it well,
and in return
I, your King
will give you all
fields of gold.
Yes, my King.
Anything else my King?
Yes! Attack the next paddock!
Mow their lawns to the ground.
No one whispers on my patch!