Even kings cannot command the sun to shine or the wind to blow and yet, if the Greens and the fanatical environmental crazies have their way, ordinary people will be placed in the position of commanding the wind and sun or freezing to death.

The king cried, “Bring me some fossil
Fuel so I can heat my cossil
For it gets so dreary cold these winter nights
It’s now dark so solar pandles
Have no sun so I need candles
There’s no juice for me to turn on any lights
There’s a windmill on each tower
But without wind there’s no power
And it’s calm tonight with nary a slight breeze
I need coal to get some warming
On these nights with winter storming
It’s so cold in here I nearly like to freeze
On each roof a solar juiceter
Where each morn our faithful rooster
Doesn’t crow because the sky is filled with cloud
There’s no sun to do the dishes
And if horses were mere wishes
I would say the whole shebang is not allowed
I’m so bundled up I wobble
Those damn windmills too much trobble
I am forced to wear a double ermine coat
Why should I the king wear flannels
Take those windmills and the panels
And just throw all of those damn things in the moat!”