Bring the pomp without the circumstance, and suffer ridicule behind your back.

Bring the circumstance without the pomp, and suffer knives behind your back.

The withered crone has seen the world.
Of beauty, pain, and fear.
The withered crone has been the beaut,
Feted, fawned, and cheered.

The withered crone has seen the man,
His snarling, stumbling, fall.
The withered crone has seen the child,
Gangly reaching tall.

The withered crone has seen it all,
And through it all remained.
The withered crone has cried with time,
Yet laughs upon today.

The withered crone is nothing but —
Her mind’s a dangerous knife.
Within her lies a knowledge sharp,
Hard-fought throughout her life.