II
Upon his wondrous head he wore a rather ugly crown;
His eyes were green and somewhat sad, his tail hung meekly down;
But on a throne of early mud he comfortably sat
And ruled his Golden Island in a way I marvel at.
He was a peaceful Zagabog,
A practical old Zagabog,
And quite unique at that.
III
For Nature only made but one, though we shall never know