by | Jan 19, 2008 | Poetry | 0 comments

My Father was ‘ King Edward ‘
His nickname it was ‘ Spud ‘
He had great plans for me one day
Succeed him as I should

But I had no ambition
To sit upon the Throne
On TV I had longed to work
To comment and to moan

To talk upon those ‘ Chat Shows ‘
Where I’d be ‘ Skinned Alive ‘
Working for ‘ The BBC ‘
Or even ‘ Channel Five ‘

I’d dig up loads of dirt
Do secret sort of deals
And count the ‘ Eyes ‘ upon my ‘ Skin ‘
And pimples on my ‘ Peel ‘

All of this I did achieve
My dream it did come true
And then I met a ‘ Princess ‘
And ‘ Fell in Love ‘ with you

But you didn’t want to know me
You said “ I’ll catch you later.
I’d love you if you were a ‘ Prince ‘
But not a ‘ Commentator ‘ “


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