The King's Daughter

The King’s Daughter

Sure, I answered the fair-haired Mary’s ad--
she too wanted to be two, needing a merry man to add.

I looked at the ad with a cautious eye, and then I said aye,
and my role changed as I went for a roll for a change.

Sure, I baled on the man who couldn’t make bail,
and bawled ‘cause the band was banned from the ball.

But when I bridled her horse at her mother’s bridal shower,
I was honestly thrown that her Dad owned the throne.

We had golfed a few tees, and shared green teas,
rode horses down a road, and watched some boats row,

during a naval show, when I spied a diamond in her navel,
like sunlight shining through, though it threw a shadow.

And then the air went bare when I dared ask "what of" her heir.
I should have seen how the tide can turn tight,

for now I'm here I am,
tied so darn tight,

telling this tale of how my chasing some tail
cost the ultimate fare and it wasn't fair!

For hey, it wasn’t my idea to toss in the hay,
so lain in the barn at the end of Lane Four.

She walked down the aisle of Someday Isle,
dreaming I’ll one day marry my Mary, make

merry, break bread, join up with the well-bred,
like a knight who carries his lover off in the night.

But she forgot about the King, who kneels at the altar,
praying his crown keeps his family from falter.

I should add, though, that though I've been bad,
it was Mary, not me, that wrote the ad they all think so rote.

I'll swear that on a rood, though they all thought me rude,
when my voice, so hoarse, failed her hail, they found me not hale.

Wait, maybe that’s why the King's voice had such weight,
why he waited ‘til eight ‘fore he sat down and ate,

And that's why the king wrings his hands in impatience,
saying bye to the jeweler whose ring I should buy.

The king sighed as he decided I was not on his side.
His role made scary, when he saw his maid and I roll.

You’ve seen the scene: the king finds her with me.
Right 'fore I'm fined by a duel dually disastrous, for

not only do I lose the flair of Mary’s pretty hair,
but I roast like a hare, the flare at my feet, tied by a knot.