YES Your HEIRNESS

Harking a havooc
a critic 'phrodite of prohibited pope
that punished a pied piper and put a kid hyper
and a dragon, disappeard from his own smoke of blown fire
blown away you'd blast your days in your own smoke from your flask of tongue tipped tea baggaged coffee cannons
nobody knows you've gone back into the zones

back in past
and past outback to turn
(clocks back)
to the black and white
white and black
(horse back of kodak)
age of prodigy in honesty
where throw away were the scrolls of orders to obey from the king and his 7 missus'

a horror-ific honest castle
(where the king stayed and occasionally waved a flag)
standing on one built up bump
on a hill that sometimes grunts lava more hot than that dragons disappearent scheme (and your 'go' of steam from afternoon tea and TV)
where he painted a pallete of self throughout the colour of invisibility

hark a havooc incident with a feather ink pen

'(no) water off a ducks back'
the victorians invented broadcast
and broad, hips be like mine and Lougis back in the day
where France was free of baguette
and you could place bodies in bags or place them in a hole under ground with no cement and there you go:
landing us down a hole and into a grave with your rave of Minstrel occupation

you'll thinnen our frocks and dance us riot, kind sir of Earnest folk that played the flute, made us laugh and watched Doctor Who

they'll be a story about you
whether it involves history or the day we sold you off to an antiques market it'll be
golden
spoke of
glorious
written

yes, marvellous your heirness