The Prince, or the Pauper?
The Prince, or the Pauper?
You live in a palace, with huge marbled walls,
Behind big gleaming gates that clang shut,
In tall spacious cold rooms, connected by halls.
Me? I just live in a hut.
You have servants and maids to attend to your needs,
They will lay out each part of your kit,
They will dress you in medals, that reflect no fine deeds.
Me? I just wear what will fit.
They will teach you to speak down, to people like me,
Instead of just ‘Cake’ you say ‘Kyke’,
You will be surrounded and shadowed, wherever you be.
Me? I just go where I like.
Your food will be plentiful, that I can say,
Oh yes, you will get a good feed,
But what you don’t touch, they will just throw away.
Me? I just eat what I need.
Your life will be ordered, there are hands to be shook,
And visits to places you hate,
And speeches to people, and at pictures to look.
Me? I don’t care if I’m late.
So who is the prince, and the pauper in here,
And who has the lesser of strife,
Who has the time for the wine or the beer,
And, who has the better, of life?
Mick
( Copyright Michael Westwood 2015 ).
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