A Fugitive, a New King
A young shepherd boy you were, until anointed by a prophet,
And sent to the palace to play a harp, perhaps to gain a profit.
You faced a giant; you slew him and took his head,
Yet when you were chosen as a man of God, lightly would you tread,
Around an envious king, who saw you as a threat to the kingdom.
He sought to destroy you, he sought to remove you from the world,
But God had other plans in mind, past when that stone you hurled,
Struck the giant down, and now look at what happened to you.
You became a fugitive, a blood thirsty, runaway Jew.
You returned; you were crowned king, yet your tale had hardly begun.