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“Why, Sire,” they pleaded, “the boy’s simply pleased”
“And I can change THAT,” a churlish maid teased.
She twisted her face to a gruesome extent,
but the smile remained fixed, despite energies spent.

Another called, “SCARE the boy into despair,”
growling and snarling and clawing the air.
But his smile did not change, nor his color, a bit,
leaving each maid involved, feeling rather a twit.

“Enough!,” cried the King, waving his hand,
as he looked out a portal, surveying his land.

“It could have been glorious, could have been grand,
an heir to my throne, a gift to my land.





.

Instead I have borne an inglorious one,
whom people will mock as their object of fun.”
So with sadness of heart, he bowed his royal head.
“ I decree to my subjects, the young prince is...dead.”

The chambermaids gasped.
The Queen promptly fainted.
The King left the room,
Fate’s cruel tragedy, painted.





.

AND, just what’s so funny,” the carpenter said.
He mused at the babe and scratched its green head.
“Why, you’d think that I had a fly on me nose,
or a hole in me britches, or mismatch-ed hose.
Or... maybe yer’ simply enjoyin’ the view.
Quite a sight to behold, that I am, surely true.”

The carpenter’s face was weathered with sun,
but a wink in his eye spoke of kindness and fun.
His hands were quite gnarled from a lifetime of work.
He walked with a limp and a skip and a jerk.

“I have been instructed to build ye a boat.
So I’ll make it a ROYAL one. Ye’ll REGALLY float.”

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