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Monday, July 4, 2011


If I could get knighted,
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.

1 comment:

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