The King Poem by Edmund V. Strolis

But oh how he could speak, crisp rapid and with rhythm.
And oh how he could take the pulse of the people in the street.

And oh how he did press his views, man did they believe him.
And oh how his stride moved along, he never missed a beat.

For a mirror is his closest friend, that picture of perfection.
He will brood and suffer the doubting fools and reel in all the rest.

The pied piper with a silver tongue will gauge your satisfaction.
Don't bother him with right or wrong, he always knows what's best.