Mephibosheth

In Lodebar, the Pastureless, I languished, far, Far from the courts that I had known Near to Grandfather's throne. A dead dog such as I Could cry And none would hear From Lodebar. And who would understand The wretched poverty, The burden of infirmity That swallowed us The day we fled in fear To this poor, barren land? And then the summons came: "King David calls," They cried to me. And I was carried to Jerusalem, Not even able to go up myself, With these frail, useless legs...