Once, holding court in Mireshireland,
the monkey was the king,
and all the squires and lady hands
had gathered round to scream
of broken dreams and many things
they did not understand,
like why the sky was up, not down,
and why their eyes rolled all around,
and why a smile became a frown,
when someone stopped to sing:
"The thing is, no one likes you
like they like their once found king
as he dances and he prances
mumbling happy sound nonsenses
that will keep up our defenses
when the hogwarts steal the ring!"
"You can't do what you want to
if you only stop to scream,
but you won't do what you want to
if you don't impress the king,"
said little Lucy Lawly
of the amber crombie family,
who had lately come to holy
through a hoard of human hatty.
The monkey found it chuckling
as he slept inside his tree,
where he liked to eat bananas
and he often came to pee.
They argue there until this day.
There is no hope they'll go away.
There's really nothing more to say.
It's good to be the king.