Two royal lovebirds, seeking booty and plunder,

In Faerie Oprahland now make the scene —

Where ancient decorum is torn asunder,

Where woke outrage makes civil thought unclean.

From forth both pedigreed and bi-racial loins,

This pair of caste-crossed wokesters have their say

And, in the surge of ratings and coins, 

Prove every dog will have its day.

Their three-hour display of PC whinging

And poor victimized Meghan’s smouldering rage

— Though it may produce a lot of cringing —

Is now the sordid subject of this page;

The which, if you with sharpest eye shall read, 

What here you miss, your soul within shall heed. 

They call him Harry. Could there be a more fitting name for this misguided, purposeless, carrot-topped, not-in-line-to-the-throne fool?

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