Part 4
The time was approaching across the whole nation
for the splendour and pomp of the King’s coronation.
“You go, H. You’re his son. It will make you look good.
I can’t risk the booing. I’d come if I could.”
“But Megsie, I need you to hang off my arm.
Going claw-less will cause me enormous alarm.”
“Oh, Harwy”, she cooed, “you have to show willing.
Just think ‘INHERITANCE’. We won’t get a shilling
if you don’t kiss his feet, not forgetting his arse.”
“Don’t push it, Megsie. That’s too great an ask.
I know William wants me to sit at the back
but I’ll squat between Alexandra and Jack.”
So he came in his crinkled Dior and was placed
behind Anne, with a feather to cover his face.
WAAAGH! for poor Harry. A fish out of water.
Each minute was hideous, arduous torture.
Straight back to the airport. He didn’t delay.
His glorious family were miles away.
He missed his invisible daughter and son,
the dogs and the chickens, the wondrous one.
Such a shame, Harry, he’s just a day tripper.
Everyone knew he was done like a kipper.
He sold his soul to the devil for lust.
Now watches, helpless, the facade turn to dust.
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