Just like a pair of turtle-doves, all bills and coos and smiles.
I never saw a turtle-dove that smiled upon its pet afore,
But he who writes of bridal pairs is bound to use the metaphor.
Oh, Princess May, oh, Princess May, in crayon or in oil you
Are loveable and beautiful, they can't avail to spoil you.
They did their worst, and did it well, those special-artist wretches,
To make you like a stolid block in all their special sketches.
So this, my meek petition, to those artists is addressed,
Give Royalties of every sort a little welcome rest.
I cannot bear my Royal ones—of loyalty I'm full—