King Goodheart
THERE lived a King, as I’ve been toldIn the wonder-working days of old,When hearts were twice as good as gold,And twenty times as mellow.Good temper triumphed in his face,And in his heart he found a placeFor all the erring human raceAnd every wretched fellow.When he had Rhenish wine to drinkIt made him very sad to thinkThat some, at junket or at jink,Must be content with toddy:He wished all men as rich as he(And he was rich as rich could be),So to the top of every treePromoted everybody.
Ambassadors cropped up like hay,Prime Ministers and such as theyGrew like asparagus in May,And Dukes were three a penny:Lord Chancellors were cheap as sprats,And Bishops in their shovel hatsWere plentiful as tabby cats—If possible, too many.On every side Field-Marshals gleamed,Small beer were Lords-Lieutenants deemed,With Admirals the ocean teemed,All round his wide dominions;And Party Leaders you might meetIn twos and threes in every streetMaintaining, with no little heat,Their various opinions.
That King, although no one denies,His heart was of abnormal size,Yet he’d have acted otherwiseIf he had been acuter.The end is easily foretold,When every blessed thing you holdIs made of silver, or of gold,You long for simple pewter.When you have nothing else to wearBut cloth of gold and satins rare,For cloth of gold you cease to care—Up goes the price of shoddy:In short, whoever you may be,To this conclusion you’ll agree,When every one is somebody,Then no one’s anybody!