The Sunday Poem: One Hundred Kings

Once upon a time there were
One hundred kings all in a castle.
Each one had his own bedroom
And thrones with golden tassles.

They had red robes and silver crowns,
Big halls with walls of stone!
But when they ate their dinners,
They ate them all alone.

‘Cause only kings lived in the castle—
No subjects, princesses or queens.
The kings had no one to rule over
So they could feel like kings.

One king named Whiggy sat on his throne
(The one with all the golden tassles)
And decided he would be the ruler
Of all the kings in the castle.

He told the others “I’m in charge!”
And “Emperor” was his name.
But they ignored what he said—
He held a meeting and no one came.

So Whiggy took off his fancy crown
And all his golden robes.
He went to his bedroom all upset
To change to khaki-colored clothes.

He put on lots of medals
And shiny blackened boots,
And took a sword in hand and went
To conquer all the kings’ bedrooms.

The other kings all ran away
When they saw Whiggy come!
But Whiggy could only take over
The bedrooms one by one.

As soon as he put his flag down
The owner moved next door!
Whiggy kept marching on and on
Until he was very tired of war.

He looked around and saw
He’d come back where he began.
So he changed clothes and threw
His shiny boots into the garbage can.

He thought all night and day
And settled on being President.
He read lots of books and magazines
To find out what that meant.

All the kings in the castle heard
About this new idea.
Lots of banners and debates went up
Without a crowd to cheer.

When the votes came rolling in
And they were counted up,
There were one hundred all in all
But no one came out on top.

Each king had voted for himself!
The elections were a tie.
Whiggy was still a normal king
Who thought that he might cry.

He went to his own bedroom
And tried to sleep that night.
He couldn’t be in charge
If he couldn’t campaign or fight.

In the morning he set aside his robes,
His crown, and all the tassles.
(He kept the throne to sit on
While he ate dinner in the castle.)

He said he was a CITIZEN,
An ordinary guy.
He had no rank or title,
No flag to hold up high.

But when he told the other kings
They were overjoyed! At last
They had someone to rule over,
to coddle and hold fast!

So Whiggy out of all the kings
Gets waited on hand and foot!
He has ninety-nine friends
To make sure all is good.

The moral is, a citizen
Is the best to be when in a castle;
Unless, of course, you love robes and crowns
And thrones with golden tassles.

That’s how it’s supposed to work, anyway. I wrote this back in college, in part, as I recall, for a student publication of poetry and stories for children. Or maybe I wrote it first and then gave it to them. I’d still like to illustrate it someday. And fix up the meter. 😛