Said the man to the King
(whilst concealing a grin):
Rolls of fabric, neat and trim
shroud your holy, pale skin.
Silver thread stitched thickly
around collar and sleeve, strictly
the finest for this work of art;
certainly, Sire, you’ll look the part.
It’s magic, I confess,
to help weed out those who are less
than intelligent at court,
it’ll be a game, a sport,
for the dim witted cannot see
these garments made by me!
Said the King to the man
(though he was panicked by the plan,
for in fact he could not see
the clothes supposedly reaching his knees):
What cleverness, sir, you’ve shown,
I would truly never have known
that a charm could be used
to seek out those who have abused
their position by my side,
but now they cannot hide!
And so the next day,
to the townsfolk’s dismay,
the King held a parade,
and a declaration he made
that any who claimed
his robes not to be, shamed
themselves and should admit
their serious lack of wit.
Yet among the mutterings
and unsure shuffling
a hum of laughter did climb
at the sight of the King’s bare behind!
Treeshallow Musings 