Coronation Poem for King Charles III

I really hope that you don’t wince
But I always thinks of you as Prince.
When you were little, I wished that we were mates
There was pictures of you by the palace gates;
Crying cos your Mum was gallivanting off on tour
And you weren’t gonna see her for weeks or more.
I felt sorry for you then, I wished you’d been my marrer.
I’d have let you have a go with my bow and arrow.
Cowboys and Indians, Robin Hood,
Sat’day morning pictures – that would have been good.
The swings in the park – I’d have give you a push
Games of marbles in the gutter, that would have been lush.
Later on I heard bout the Gordonstone days being bad
How they thrashed and mistreated a decent young lad.
You submitted to all their sadistic tosh
And poor little bugger, you came out posh.