Dear King of England, to reject my candidature on grounds of nationality
Would be an act of xenophobic irrationality.
You guys need a Poet Laureate, and I’m able and willing,
Although frankly, I’d like to be paid a bit more than the King’s shilling.
I’m told the fee includes a butt of canary,
But that’s a drink of which I’ve learned to be somewhat wary
As it makes me excessively merry.
All things considered, I think I’d prefer a case of sherry.
Now, as to my duties:
I’ll churn you out poems by the dozen, some real beauties
With amusing rhymes, though don’t expect regular scansion -
My lines often lurch from contraction to expansion.
Just say the word, Your Majesty, and I’ll be happy to give the thing a bash.
Yours sincerely, Ogden Nash.
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