Line the pieces in a row
The little ones go in front
But the important ones go
Where they won't face the brunt

Who decides this tyranny?
The pawns surely aren't the first
To realize and to see
That they deal with the worst

Line up against your king, pawns!
Band together, you, the least!
For when a new day dawns
It won't be the king who eats the feast

The bishops and the rooks
The horses and the queen, too
They watch with scared looks
As the entire board is thrown askew

The tyranny is at an end!
No more pawns are dying
To the king, no more knees will bend
And they wouldn't stop crying

Penned by my hand on the 3rd of Mayan, in the year 742 AF.