I'd be so excited,
I'd probably fall down and plotz.
To think of the scene,
Upon meeting the queen,
Would most likely give my veins clots.
I'd stand there all regal,
As proud as a seagull,
And then on one knee I would kneel.
She'd come up to me,
The queen would, you see,
And whisper some words or a schpiel.
Nobody would know,
She's speak sweet and low,
The words that were said on a whim.
When Sullivan was knighted,
Victoria, delighted,
Whispered some kind words to him.
He forgot what they were,
On the day he made "Sir",
The compliment forever was lost.
I haven't done much,
That would earn me a touch,
Of knightliness easily tossed.
But I wouldn't turn down,
A hot date with The Crown,
Involving a polished, sharp sword.
It would rest on my shoulder,
As I straightened up, bolder,
To accept my new rank and award.
And I wouldn't be skittish,
I'd pretend I was British,
For an hono(u)r so great and so grand.
So, Majesty kind,
If you're stumped for a find,
A person on whom to bestow,
A knighthood befitting just so,
Just send me an invite,
I promise, I don't bite,
And to you I shall always be true.
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Bravooooooooooooooo.
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