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EMILY ANN
OVERNMENT muddled, departments dazed,
Fear and confusion wherever he gazed;
Order insulted, authority spurned,
Dread and distraction wherever he turned—
Oh, the great King Splosh was a sad, sore king,
With never a statesman to straighten the thing.
Glugs all importunate urging their claims,
With selfish intent and ulterior aims.
Glugs with petitions for this and for that,
Standing ten deep on the royal door-mat,
Raging when nobody answered their ring—
Oh, the great King Splosh was a careworn king.
And he looked to the right, and he glanced to the left,
And he glared at the roof like a monarch bereft
Of his wisdom and wits and his wealth all in one;
And, at least once a minute, asked, "What's to be done?"
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