The day arrived when his schemes grew too wide,

No rug left to sweep his sins inside;

From court to cottage, the rumours flew,

And whispers sharpened as people knew.

 

In hurried disguises, he fled each town,

His silk robe traded for tattered brown;

Yet sharp-eyed hunters, swift and keen,

Followed his trail through valleys unseen.

 

Once hailed as a genius, an icon of skill,

Now he was a man who’d lost his will.

Debt collectors, rivals, the cheated of yore,

Closed in like wolves at a forest’s door.

 

His fortune lost, his allies few,

Those who’d once praised him all withdrew;

And Ogilvy stood, exposed to the core,

A hollow man, revered no more.

 

The once-grand schemes he wove so well

Became his undoing, a sordid spell;

For in his lies, he’d buried his way,

And now in truth, he’d dearly pay.

 

With riches and finery gone at last,

Ogilvy fell from his heights so vast;

A wretched end to his glittering climb,

Caught by the hands of his own doomed crime.