O For the fair Queen of Clovers

O! For the fair Queen of Clovers
Her burnished hair, a net to cast,
To twist, to twine, 'twixt the sun-cursed hills;
For no less a catch than her people's love to last -
Their hearts, their minds, their strength, their will.

O! For the fair Queen of Clovers
Her verdant eye, a jewel to sell;
The price, sweet as summer wine,
To still the tolling death-cry knell!
One-eyed lady, goddess divine.

O! For the fair Queen of Clovers
Her flowered sword, a torch to light
The darkness through which the kingdom falls.
For no less an end than forgotten might -
And lo! The hallowed war-horn calls.

© AlouetteCorone
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Hungary, the Queen of Clubs - inspired, of course, by the Hetalia Arte Stella cards.