Cajolery
There was a cunning tiny court jester
Whose name was Arthur Lester
He was a man who always sequestered
His secrets, away
At dawn on the 30th of June, he approached the king, carrying a prune
The king, bewildered, stuttered, aghast, "P-pure l—lun—acy...
Why the hell would you bring that to me?
You think that to be a wise means to cajolery?"
"No" Lester said, shaking his head steadily, denying solemnly
"Sir," he coughed—pretending a sickness—"Twas only generosity"
The king saw foolishness, blind to wickedness, said, "You're a fool."
He laughed, lambasted, saying, "What to expect? You're a jester. I rule."
The jester cried and gave his master some water
That secretly contained a dissolved pill
That made the king constipated
Further needing that prune, bent to the jester's will
"Oh jester, you poor sick lad! Oh woe as me!"
"Why did I not take the prune from thee?"
In misery, the king granted the jester all his lands in his will
And when he died of constipation, the jester was thrilled.
