Royalty or absence of it is hot news these days and the 'Americanisation' of poor, stupid Harry, Duke of Nowhere, is a sorry 21st Century tale of narcissism, self-pity and victim culture.
This lighthearted poem is about the perils of upsetting a Princess but please don't look for a subtext about Princesses, present or past or even future, because there isn't one.
THE ROYAL STAMP OF DISAPPROVAL
A cunning and deceitful frog,
one early morning in the mist,
set off from home, a noxious bog,
to seek a princess and be kissed.
He hoped this object to achieve
because princesses are naive.
A true Don Juan, the frog was glad
that it is easy to convince
a foolish princess, lovelorn, sad,
that frogs, once kissed, morph to a prince.
He’d find himself a handy log
to squat on till he got a snog.
A princess presently appeared.
He croaked, Hey Miss grant me a kiss.
She did. I ain’t a prince, he jeered.
She wasn’t very pleased with this.
Before the rascal could decamp
she squashed him with her boot, stamp, stamp.
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