King Goodheart.

There lived a King, as I've been told,     In 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 place     For all the erring human race     And every wretched fellow.     When he had Rhenish wine to drink     It made him very sad to think     That 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 tree     Promoted everybody.     Ambassadors cropped up like hay,     Prime Ministers and such as they     Grew like asparagus in May,     And Dukes were three a penny.     Lord Chancellors were cheap as sprats.     And Bishops in their shovel hats     Were plentiful as tabby cats     If possible, too many.     On every side Field-Marshals gleamed,     Small beer were Lords Lieutenant deemed     With Admirals the ocean teemed     All round his wide dominions;     And Party Leaders you might meet     In twos and threes in every street     Maintaining, with no little heat,     Their various opinions.     That King, although no one denies     His heart was of abnormal size,     Yet he'd have acted otherwise     If he had been acuter.     The end is easily foretold,     When every blessed thing you hold     Is made of silver, or of gold,     You long for simple pewter.     When you have nothing else to wear     But 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 somebodee,     Then no one's anybody!