In a New Land

The dead are marching on the castle, 
the king has fled his home;
he left his vacillating vassal, 
whose broken legs won't roam. 

The crows are growing restless, 
the stores are waxing want.
Those left have all expressed "Yes,"
and how that choice will haunt.

So, things are as they are,
and are though right or wrong.
I know I've traveled far, 
but still for home I long.