He is the one, the only King.
All play-mates leave him quite alone.
No matter what morning doth bring,
He tends to play on his I-phone.
Stabbing red buttons, click, click, click,
He is so regal, and oh, so quick!
The king’s son we would never trade.
For this one surely makes the grade.
Not the kind of man to prance or preen,
Always...
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