who yesterday planned with his royal wife
a future in which neither one was dead;
denial features in king Charles' life.
His mother'd kept him comfortable in Wales
'til any juice of youth was safely spent.
the dernier cri in well-appointed jails
in which her first-born could be life-long pent.
He's done his duty, got a hale male heir
Like Henry couldn't, 'though--Lord knows-- he tried.
If now he's distant from the red haired Spare,
I tend to blame it on his second bride.
Would I be awfully forward to inquire:
"who gets to throw that woman on his pyre?"
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