Blogging Bratt

Since everyone seems to be going ga-ga (goo-goo) over the new little blue bundle at The Palace, and theme related stuff is popping up around the world from funny children’s books to television parodies, I’ve decided that it would be a grand time to debut this silly little ditty. By all means my fellow peasants, do enjoy (or not*).

Disclaimer: The following poem does not refer to anyone living or dead. Any likeness to an actual person is purely coincidental. After all, the following verse was written long before sweet little His Royal Highness Prince George Alexander Louis of Cambridge was even born; by at least two whole weeks.

* To those who have no sense of humor I want to apologize in advance- I am truly sorry that you have no sense of humor.

Royal Pain

A royal baby does not cry;

He’s too well bred to whimper.

It’s understood he’s not to fuss,

Or fret, or burp, or simper.

Royal infants don’t spit-up

( It’s been decreed illegal );

And soil their nappies? Heavens no!

Why, that would NOT be regal!

His royal linens bear no stain,

His clothes nary a wrinkle.

Should he require aid he simply gives

His silver-bell a tinkle.

Royal offspring NEVER crawl-

It simply is not done.

Royal children may play games,

Providing they’re not fun.

I feel sorry for the little chap

Who’s born to wear a crown-

It’s no wonder that in photos

Royal babies always frown!

© Copyright Ima Bratt 2013