Concerning the Crown Prince

I

When Crown Prince Willy goes to bed
It is his wont to lay his head
Upon the pillow and extend
His feet towards the other end.
“But does he really wear his hat
In bed?” you ask—well, as to that
I cannot say, I never saw him,
But that’s the way I always draw him.

II

The thing that Germans most admire
Is Crownie’s coolness under fire.
He loves to watch it gleam and glow
’Mid fragrant smoke, an inch or so
Above his nose as he reclines
In some Château behind the lines;
If the Crown Prince had his desire
He would be always under fire!

III

When you or I get up at eight
We do not have to cogitate
And rack our brains concerning just
Which suit to wear, as Princes must;
The Crown Prince has a hundred suits,
Including hats and belts and boots,
Yet such his master-mind, he knows
Which he must wear and just what goes
With what, which chevron, sash or sword,
Each in his Royal Head is stored,
Down to the detail of a spur,
All in a Nut-shell, as it were!

IV

Here is a most uncensored sight!
The Prince, in garb Pre-Adamite
Taking (but tell it not in Gath)
A good old English shower-bath!

V

The Prince’s shy and shrinking habit
Has earned for him the nickname “Rabbit.”
This irritates His Highness more
Than all his country’s grief and gore,
It hurts his amour propre, for it’s
A clear case of the “Cap that fits.”
But don’t you think, however funny,
It’s rather rough upon the Bunny?