When writing children’s verse, it’s hard to see where sincerity ends and parody begins . . . .

Of Kings and Things

Before I begin I should like to now say
That my tale is quite different from those of today,
A tale of two kingdoms of old ancient times
And the oaths that two kings made while counting their dimes.

The vows were of greed and as each of you know
Oaths such as these will bring naught but much woe.
The cause was a sad one, I’ll tell it all now,
The two kingdoms were fighting for sake of a cow.

The cow was a cow, much like those we’ve all seen
It was white with black spots and gave just as much cream
As each other cow in each kingdom, no more
(and the kings from both kingdoms had much cream to pour).

So what was so special about this cow, you ask?
The one that perplexed King Zisk and King Zask?
Well, thirty-one cows Zisk owned ‘neath the sun
And as for King Zask, he owned thirty and one.

“What can be done with this one extra creamer?”
Raved Zask from his castle, not much of a dreamer.
“And how can we ever keep both sides the same?”
Roared Zisk from his keep with no one to blame.

And so it began from down far in the field
Where both kingdom’s cows would all daily yield
To afternoon milkings by the kings’ men
Day after day, again and again.

For all was the same in each kingdom’s cache,
Right down to the length of each king’s mustache.
All but the matter of this one single beast
So Zisk planned to brand it – make it his at the least.

But Zask had heard rumor of King Zisk’s planning
And made his own plans for late-night cow-branding.
So when morning would come to the fields each knew
That the other would have fewer and he, thirty-two.

Morning did come as was morning’s wont
And each king decided to go out on a jaunt.
“To the fields!” they both cried and assembled their horses
To ride down in style with a show of great forces.

In the field they both met and exchanged kingly bows
And King Zisk then explained he was here to count cows.
As counting began both sides grew mighty,
“Z” banners raised and spears tilted slightly.

“Sixty-three!” Zask exclaimed when he finished his count.
“The same for I, also,” boasted Zisk from his mount.
“But how can this be?” they both said politely,
“Where is the extra that maddened us nightly?”

Suspicions arose and anger as well,
A king should not steal and then live to tell.
And alas, Zisk’s and Zask’s armies were both brought to bear
And the fighting began without either aware

That down in the fields where all the cows grazed
The extra cow stood with its dreamy head raised
And watched both the kings with rage on their minds
Fight for sixty-three cows with “Z”s on their hinds.

If a moral be here amidst my old tale
I ask you to find it deep down in the vale.
Hark! for amidst kingly pride and resulting milieu,
“Moo” says the cow, and this is most true.